- 


■■■■:  ': 


i ■       •■■ ■"* 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


SOUTHERN   SPEAKER 

CONTAINING   SELECTIONS  FROM  THE  OR  A- 

TIONS,    ADDRESSES   AND    WRITINGS 

OF  THE  BEST-KNOWN  SOUTHERN 

ORATORS,  SOUTHERN  STATES- 
MEN AND   SOUTHERN 
A UTHORS 


TOGETHER    WITH    EXTRACTS    FROM    THE    RAREST   GEMS    OF 
PROSE   AND    POETRY    EVER    WRITTEN 


BY 


D.    BARTON    ROSS,    A.M. 

Compiled /or  use  in  Southern  Schools  and  Universities 


NEW,     REVISED    EDITION 
COPYRIGHT,    igoi,    BY    HINDS    5c    NOBLE 


HINDS,   NOBLE  &   ELDREDGE,    Publishers 
41-33-35  We9i  15TH  Street,  New  York  City 


■ 


CONTENTS. 


Page 

Education  in  the  South, George  T.  Winston, 1 

The  South  before  the  War Henry  W.  Grady 3 

The  Old  South  and  the  New, "        "        "       6 

Under  the  Southern  Flag, John  W.Daniel, 7 

ATypicalHero "       "        "         9 

Industrial  Slavery, B.  R.  Tillman 10 

"  Lest  we  Forget," David  Starr  Jordan, 12 

Energy, Alexander  H.  Stephens,..  14 

The  Iron  Will  of  Andrew  Jackson, 15 

Men  and  Memories  of  the. South T.  J.  Powell, 16 

The  Southern  Negro, Henry  W.  Grady 18 

The  Blue  and  the  Gray, Henry  Cabot  Lodge, 19 

From  Death  to  Life, Henry  W.  Grady 20 

The  New  Union, Henry  Watterson 22 

A  Plea  for  the  Southern  Negro C.C.Smith, 23 

Individualism  us.  Centralization, Hon.  W.G.  Wooten, 24 

A  Court  Scene  in  the  South Adapted 26 

The  Negro  Vote  in  the  South Henry  W.  Grady 28 

The  Future  of  the  Southern  Negro -  —  Booker  T.  Washington,..  30 

Fraterualism  vs.  Sectionalism Hon.  S.  W.  T.  Lanham,.  31 

A  United  Country, Senator  George  F.  Hoar,  32 

National  Unity, Wm.  L.  Prather, 33 

Expand  at  Home  and  not  in  the  Philippines,..!).  A.  De.  Armond, 35 

The  Independent  Voter, Leo  N.  Levi, 36 

Our  Policy  toward  Porto  Rico, S.  W.  T.  Lanham, 38 

Education  and  Character, Wm.  L.  Prather, 39 

Reunited, William  McKinley, 41 

A  Plea  for  Cuba John  M.  Thurston, 43 

Little  Oiffen,  of  Tennessee 45 

Derelopment  of  Southern  Resources,       *. . . .  Wm.  H.  Garland, 47 

The  same,  continued, "      "          "         48 

Influence  of  Lofty  Thoughts  and  Noble  Senti- 
ments  • Albert  Pike,  ...........  60 

Reproductive  Immortality  of  Language, Rev.  H.  B.  Bascom,....  61 

Franklin's  Toast, 62 

The  March  of  Improvement, 62 

The  Miser,  (Poetry,) Captain  O.  W.  Cutter,  .  63 

Individual  Influence, Rev.  Dr.  Drake, 66 

Moral  Independence, ••••••••••■••••••••••••••• 66 

The  First  Gun  of  Freedom, Everett, 67 

A  Patriotic  Hymn, • Knickerbocker  Mag......  69 

Individual  Character  of  Nations,         J.C.Andrews 61 

A  New  Continent Anon., 62 

The  Coral  Grove,  (Poetry,) Percival, 63 

Life Heber,. 64 

Beyond  the  River,  (Poetry,) New  Orleans  Creole,  ...  66 

A  Valedictory  Address, Putnam, 66 

Mercy,  (Poetry,) Shakspeare 67 

Collegiate  Education,            C.  Roselius •  67 

The  Lost  Ship,  (Poetry,) Miss  Mary  Ann  Lee, ...  69 

Tell  me,  ye  winged  Winds,  (Poetry,) Charles  Mackay, 70 

Effects  of  Ignorance  among  the  Masses,         ..C.  Roselius, 71 

A  Plea  for  the  Union,         O.P.Baldwin, 72 

My  Lord  Tomnoddy,  (Humorous  Poetry,).... London  Diogenes, 74 

Military  Education  in  Civil  Institutions,          J>rof-  &•  C«  Forshey,...  7ft 

No  Geographical  Party,           Rufus  Choate 77 

Shall  our  Laurels  wither  ?          A.  P.  Harcourt,. .......  78 

The  Song  of  Steam, American  Organ 79 

Independence  Monument,          , Kenneth  Rayner, 81 

Ths  Same,  continued, '•           ■        M 

(t) 


CONTENTS. 

The  Hour  of  DcathjJPoctTT,) Mrs.  Hemam 241 

The  Destiny  of  the  United  States H.  W.  Hilliard, 246 

The  Famine  in  Ireland, S.S.Prentiss 247 

New  England  and  the  Union "  "         248 

Republics, Hugh  S.  Legari 249 

Eulogium  on  Franklin,         Mirabeau, 260 

The  Union  of  Church  and  State, "         261 

To  the  Revolutionary  Veterans,         Webster 262 

Intelligence  a  National  Safeguard Levi  Woodbury, 264 

The  Permanence  of  American  Liberty, McDuffie , 266 

Eulogy  on  Washington, J.  M.  Mason 256 

Eulogy  on  Hamilton Nott 257 

Intellectual  and  Commercial  Wants, J.  C.  Calhoun, 257 

Patriotism  of  the  West Clay 258 

Hector's  Attack  on  the  Grecian  Walls Pope's  Homer, 259 

Progress  of  the  Age, Everett 261 

Foreign  Policy  of  Washington,         Fox, 261 

A  Republic  the  Strongest  Government,         .Jefferson 263 

Scene  from  Pizarro,  (Dialogue,) Kotzebue, 264 

TheSame.    Second  Scene "        266 

American  Aristocracy,  (Humorous  Poetry,)  .J.  G.  Saxe, 268 

Pedantry,  (Humorous  Dialogue,) Anon., 268 

On  Precedents  in  Government,         Lewis  Cass, 273 

Tight  Times,  (Humorous,) Albany  Register, 274 

Intervention  in  the  Wars  of  Europe,  . .  .Jeremiah  Clemens, 275 

The  Contest  unequal,  (Humorous,) Sydney  Smith, 277 

Hazards  of  our  National  Prosperity,         . . .  W .  R.  Smith 278 

Improvement,  (Humorous,) Dow,  Jr., 279 

Despair,  (Humorous,) "         280 

Nature,  (Humorous,) "        282 

Gold,  (Humorous  Poetry,) Hood, 283 

Attention  the  Soul  of  Genius . Dr.  Dewey 283 

On  the  Supposed  Dangers  to  the  Union,  ....  Madison, 284 

The  Disinterestedness  of  Washington, Robert  Treat  Paine 286 

Vindication  of  South  Carolina, McDuffie 287 

Intemperance, Edgar  A.  Poe, 288 

No  Excellence  without  Labor, Wirt, 289 

Belshazzar's  Vision,  (Poetry,) Byron, 290 

Address  to  the  Ocean,  (Poetry,) "      291 

The  Sun-burnt  Man,  (Humorous,) Stahl, 292 

Nothing  in  It,  (Humorous  Dialogue,) Charles  Mathews, 293 

The  Chameleon,  (Poetry,) Merrick, 296 

Knickerbocker's  New  England  Fanner,  (Hu- 
morous,)   W.  Irving, 297 

The  Suspension  of  Diplomatic  Relations  with 

Austria, M.  T.  Hunter, 299 

The  Missionary  Enterprise 301 

The  Missionary  Spirit 302 

Against  Foreign  Influence,         Millard  Fillmore, 303 

Against  Section  al  Agitation,         Franklin  Pierce, 304 

Eloquence  and  Logic, William  C.  Preston, ....  305 

For  Independence,  Richard  Henry  Lee, ....  306 

The  Raven,  (Poetry,) Edgar  A.  Poe 308 

State  Interposition, J.  C.  Calhoun, 311 

Address  to  the  Texian  Army, M.  B.  Lamar, 31  '1 

Enthusiasm, William  Pinckney, 31* 

Be  faithful  to  your  Country, Everett 316 

Washington's  Sword  and  Franklin's  Starf,  . ./.  Q.  Adams, 316 

The  Sword  of  General  Jackson,         Cass, 317 

Union  linked  with  Liberty,         Andrew  Jackson, 31S" 

8cene  from  Catiline,  (Dialogue,) Croly, ....   32(1 


CONTENTS. 

We  we  Seven,  (Poetry,) Wordsieorth, 828 

Constitution  of  the  United  States, Alexander  Hamilton, .  •  •  32*; 

Extent  of  Country  no  Bar  to  Union,  .  ..Edmund  Randolph 326 

Sublime  Prospects,  (Poetry,) Akenside, 327 

France  and  the  United  States,  Washington, 328 

The  Hermit,  (Poetry,) Goldsmith, 329 

Man  alone  makes  War  on  bis  own  Species, . .  Scott, • 330 

Messiah,  a  Sacred  Eclogue,  (Poetry,) Pope, 331 

The  8oldier's  Tear,  (Poetry,) T.  H.  Bailey, 332 

The  Veteran,  (Poetry,) "  "        333 

Free  Discussion, Webster, 333 

American  Institutions,  .  " 334 

On  Government  Extrr^  Crittenden 335 

The  Tyrant  Gesler  a. ...        .aam  Tell,  (Dia- 
logue,)  Knowles 336 

The  Murderer's  Secret Webster 338 

TheSame.    Part  Second, "        339 

War  with  France, Calhoun, 34C 

The  Preservation  of  the  Union, Cass, 341 

The  True  Nature  of  our  Government,         .  .  D.  Ullmann, 342 

The  Sentinels  of  Liberty Webster, 344 

Political  Corruption, McDuffie, 345 

Instability  of  Human  Governments, Rutledqe, 346 

Religious  Education, E.  A.  Nisbet, 347 

Tribute  to  Chatham, Wirt,  348 

Napoleon  fallen, Phillips,.. 349 

Napoleon  at  Rest,  (Poetry,) Pierpont, 350 

Consequences  of  our  Independence, Mazcy, 351 

Gentleman  and  Irish  Servant,  (Dialogue,)  .  .A non., 352 

Frenchman    and    his   English  Tutor,   (Dia- 
logue,)       "      363 

A  Plea  for  the  Ancient  Languages, New  Orleans  Creole,  . .  •  355 

Defalcation  and  Retrenchment,  S.  JS.  Prentiss 356 

The  South  during  the  "War  of  1812,  Hayne, 358 

An  Excuse,  ( Humorous,) E.W.C.   Normal  School,  359 

Eulogy  on  Candle  Light,  ( Humorous,) Charles  Lamb, 360 

The  Patriot's  Ambition,  Clay, 362 

The  Consequences  of  Disunion,         "     , 363 

Incidents  of  Travel,  (Humorous,) Major  Jones, 364 

Romeo's  Description  of  an  Apothecary,  (Poe- 
try,)   Sftakspeare, 366 

Account  of  a   Bachelor,  (A  Parody  on  the 

preceding,) Anon., 366 

The  Union, Clay, 367 

Taxation  for  War, Calhoun, 368 

8tate  Rights, "         368 

Eulogy  upon  John  C.  Calhoun, Webster, 369 

To  the  American  Flag,  (Poetry,) J.  R.  Drake, 371 

Old  Ironsides,  (Poetry,) O.  W.  Holmes 372 

Demosthenes  on  the  Crown,  (Exordium,) 873 

Public  Spirit  of  the  Athenians, Demosthenes  on  the  Crown,  374 

Demosthenes  not  vanquished  by  Philip,. . .  "  "  '        375 

Catiline  denounced, Cicero, 376 

Catiline  expelled "        378 

Verres  denounced, "       378 

8oliloquy  of  Hamlet's  Uncle, Shaktpeare v 380 

Cheerfulness,  (Poetry,) '•  3H1 

The  Btwnoe  Hoy,  ( Humorous,) Anon., 3t!l 

8cene    from    Snakspeare,     (  Humorous     Dia- 
logue, ) 483 

Nec*«aity  of  Kducation  in  a  Republic,  .O.  N   (tgden W6 


CONTENTS. 

The  Same,  concluded 0.  N.  Ogden, •••«•  387 

Ode  to  the  South,         Louise  Page 38& 

The  Beer  Trial,  (Humorous,) Temperance  Dialogue*,.  389 

The  Spirit  of  Human  Liberty, Webster 391 

My  Aunt,  (Humorous  Poetry,) O.  W.  Holmes 391 

Our  Country's  Origin Webster 393 

The  Progress  of  Liberty, "        394 

The  Character  of  "Washington, "        39S 

The  Responsibility  of  Americans, " 396 

The  Deep,  (Poetry.) Brainard, 397 

Patriotic  Triumph, Maxcy, 398 

The  Infant  Orator,  (Poetry,) Anon., 398 

Parody  on  the  Foregoing,  (Humorous,) Anon., 399 

The  Intemperate  Husband, Sprague, 400 

The  Drunkard's  Daughter,  (Poetry,) G.  W.Bungay 401 

Baneful  Effects  of  Party  Spirit Rev.  Dr.  Ftsk, 401 

The  Destiny  of  America, Story, 403 

The  Responsibilities  of  America, "      404 

Adams  and  Jefferson '..  Everett, 405 

The  Same,  concluded, "         406 

A  Mother's  Gift  —  the  Bible,  (Poetry,) W.  Ferguson, 407 

The  Destiny  of  America G.  S.  Hillard, 408 

The  Development  of  our  Country, Dr.  Henry 409 

The  Poet  in  the  Clouds,  (Poetry,) Coleridge, 410 

W  ashington  a  Man  of  Genius, Whipple, 410 

The  Death  of  Washington, R.  T.  Paine, 411 

The  Light  of  Science, Ezra  D.  Barker, 412 

The  Good  Time  coming,  J.  B.  Gough, 413 

The  Warfare  of  Truth C.  W.  Upham 414 

The  Party  Man, , Anon., 414 

The  Philosopher's  Scales,  (Poetry,) Jane  Taylor 4 16 

Observance  of  the  Sabbath Dr.  Spring 417 

Cardinal    Wolsey's    Address    to    Cromwell, 

(Poetry,) Shakspeare, 41f 

Soliloquy  of  Henry  IV.,  (Poetry,) "  42J 

Sabbath  Morning, New  York  Paper 420 

A  Specimen  of  Pulpit  Eloquence,  Bridaine 422 

Charles  XII.  of  Sweden,  (Poetry,) Dr.  Johnson, 423 

The  Warnings  of  History Anon. 424 

America  the  Land  of  Promise, Everett, 426 

Love  of  Country, Charles  Gayarre, 425 

The  South,  Jefferson  Davis 427 

Similitudes,  (Poetry,) James,  428 

Character  of  Blannerhassett,  Wirt,  429 

Agriculture, D.  S.  Dickinson, 431 

An  Appeal  for  Union J.  M.  Berrien, 432 

Loyalty  to  the  Constitution, S.  A.  Douglas, 433 

The  Village  Schoolmaster,  (Poetry,) Goldsmith, 434 

Prospect  of  planting  the  Arts  and  Learning 

in  America,  (Poetry,) Berkeley, 436 

Address  to  his  Soldiers, Francis  Marion, 436 

Song  of  Marion's  Men,  (Poetry,) Bryant, 437 

The  Fate  of  the  Indians, Story, 438 

The  Example  of  our  Forefathers, Sparks 439 

The  Study  of  Oratory  in  Greece  and  Rome, . .  Wirt, 439 

False  Courage Channing, 440 

True  Courage, "  441 

Necessity  of  a  State  Law  against  Dueling, . . .  Anon., 442 

On  altering  the  Virginia  Constitution,  .John  Randolph, 443 

Lodgings  foi  Single  Gentlemen,  ( Humorous 

Poetry.).... , Colman * «44 


0ONTKNT8. 

The  Rich  Man  and  the  Poor  Man,  (Poetry, )Khemnilter, ..  441 

Paddy's  Metamorphosis,  (Humorousroetry,)Afoor«, ••  446 

Othello's  Apology,  (Poetry,) Shakspeare, 447 

The  Toilet,  (Humorous  Poetry,) Pope 449 

Competence,  (Poetry,) Swift, 449 

Lord  Ullin's  Daughter,  (Poetry,) Campbell, 460 

Ritrospect,  (Poetry,) Cowper, 462 

Poetry  of  the  Bible, Dr.  Spring, 463 

The  Same,  concluded, "  "      464 

Song  of  Moses  after  the  Passage  of  the  Red 

Sea, 16th  Chap,  of  Exodus,..  456 

The  Closing  Year,  (Poetry,) G.  D.  Prentice, 467 

The  Last  Man,  (Poetry,) Campbell, 459 

Columbia,  remember  thy  Heroes,  (Poetry,).. James  G.  Clark, 461 

Washington  in  Retirement, Sparks, 462 

The  Grave  of  Washington,  (Poetry,) Albert  Pike, 463 

Daniel  Webster,  (Poetry,) O.  W.  Holmes 464 

Thought  without  Utterance,  (Poetry,) .Tupper, 466 

The  Power  of  Eloquence,  (Poetry,) "        466 

Trifles,  (Poetry,) "        466 

The  Good  Manj  (Poetry,) "        467 

What  the  Public  School  House  says, Ohapin, 468 

The  Three  Black  Crows,  (Poetry,) Byrom, 469 

Turn  the  Carpet,  (Poetry,) Hannah  More, 470 

The  Natural  World  inferior  to  the  Moral 

World, Grimke, 471 

Slander,  (Poetry,) Mrs.  Osgood, 473 

Self-made  Men, 474 

The  Inchcape  Rock, Southey, 476 

Moral  Courage, 477 

The  Dear-bought  Victory, Anon., 477 

Time, "     479 

What  is  Time,  (Poetry,) Marsden, 479 

The  Prayerless  One,  (Poetry,) Anon., 480 

Wealth, E.  A.  Nisbet, 482 

Military  Glory "  "       483 

Memory,  (Poetry,) W.M.Praed 484 

Briers  and  Bemes,  (Poetry,) Brown, 485 

The  Fall  of  Jerusalem, Croly, 487 

May,  (Poetry,) 488 

The  Majesty  of  Intellect, Rev.  G.  S.  Weaver 490 

Character  the  8oul'8  Habiliment, "        "  "        ....490 

The81eeperon  Galilee,  (Poetry,) Miss  Harriet  J.  Meek,..  491 

The  Winged  Worshippers,  (Poetry,) C.  Sprague, 492 

The  Four  Master  Spirits  of  the  Human  Race.-dnon., 493 

The  Better  Land,  (Poetry,) Mrs.  Hemans 494 

The  Wilkinson  Trial 8.  S.  Prentiss, 49fi 

The  Dying  Alchemist,  (Poetry,) Willis, 496 

Loss  of  the  8teamship  President, Rev.  J.  N.  Majlt 499 

The  8ame,  concluded,. *        -         *      600 

A  8ummer  Sunset,  (Poetry.)         Rev.  A.  E.  Goodwyn,.,.  601 

The  Pitiable  Condition  of  Ignorance W.  W.  Hageman, 502 

Death  and  the  Drunkard,  (Poetry.) Anon. 603 

Varion*  Kxtr.au. 606-610 


ROSS'S 
SOUTHERN  SPEAKER. 


Education  in  the  SoutJl.—QsoRQK  T.  Winston. 

Great  is  the  commonwealth  whose  foundations  are  liberty  and 
learning,  where  every  child  is  blessed  with  instruction  and  every 
man  is  clothed  with  citizenship;  where  popular  sovereignty  rests 
securely  on  the  firm  basis  of  popular  education.  A  common- 
wealth thus  planted  in  the  bleak  coast  of  Massachusetts  grew 
rich  and  strong  in  educated  labor  and  labor-saving  machinery. 

To  the  southward  another  colony  was  planted.  Its  basis  was 
not  universal  education.  Its  leaders  were  heroes  and  giants  in 
intellect  and  character.  They  planted  a  commonwealth  un- 
equalled in  modern  times  for  the  patriotism,  learning  and  virtue 
of  its  public  men ;  for  the  beauty,  purity  and  grace  of  its 
women  ;  for  the  matchless  eloquence  of  its  orators;  for  the  for- 
titude and  gallantry  of  its  soldiers,  and  for  unconquerable  de- 
votion to  personal  liberty  and  constitutional  government.  It 
was  an  agricultural  colony,  of  strong  and  simple  life,  without 
cities,  without  factories,  with  little  commerce.  Its  character 
was  patriarchal  and  its  power  proceeded  not  from  the  mass  of 
the  people,  but  from  their  mighty  leaders.  It  did  not  compre- 
hend the  power  of  universal  education.  Between  this  colony 
and  the  one  north  began  a  Btrnggle  for  the  possession  of  the 
continent.  That  Btrnggle,  though  colored  by  sectional  preju- 
dice, and  apparently  political,  was,  in  its  essence,  industrial.  It 
was  a  Btrnggle  of  the  free,  educated  labor  of  the  North  against 
the  uneducated  slave  labor  of  the  South.  But  the  Btrnggle  was 
aneqnal;  the  educated  free  labor  of  New  England,  mounted 
upon  the  steam-engine,  travelled  faster  and  wroughl  greater  la- 
bors than  the  Southern   planter  carrying  upon   his  back  tho 


4  ROSS'S   SPEAKER. 

The  Northern  man,  dealing  with  casual  servants,  querulous, 
sensitive,  and  lodged  for  a  day  in  a  sphere  they  resent,  can 
hardly  comprehend  the  friendliness  and  sympathy  that  existed 
hetween  the  master  and  the  slave.  He  cannot  understand  how 
the  negro  stood  in  slavery  days,  open-hearted  and  sympathetic, 
full  of  gossip  and  comradeship,  the  companion  of  the  hunt,  frolic, 
furrow  and  home,  contented  in  the  kindly  dependence  that  had 
been  a  habit  of  his  blood,  and  never  lifting  his  eyes  beyond  the 
narrow  horizon  that  shut  him  in  with  his  neighbors  and  friends. 
But  this  relation  did  exist  in  the  days  of  slavery.  It  was  the 
rule  of  that  regime.  It  has  survived  war  and  strife,  and  polit- 
ical campaigns  in  which  the  drum-beat  inspired  and  Federal 
bayonets  fortified.  It  will  never  die  until  the  last  slaveholder 
and  slave  have  been  gathered  to  rest.  It  is  the  glory  of  our 
past  in  the  South.  It  is  the  answer  to  abuse  and  slander.  It 
is  the  hope  of  our  future. 


TJie  Neiu  South.— henry  w.  Grady. 

The  picture  of  your  returning  armies  of  the  North  has  been 
drawn  for  you  by  a  master  hand.  You  have  been  told  how 
in  the  pomp  and  circumstance  of  war  they  came  back  to 
you,  marching  with  proud  and  victorious  tread,  reading  their 
glory  in  a  nation's  eyes.  Will  you  bear  with  me  while  I  tell 
you  of  another  army  that  sought  its  home  at  the  close  of  the 
late  war — an  army  that  marched  home  in  defeat  and  not  in  vic- 
tory, in  pathos  and  not  in  splendor,  but  in  glory  that  equalled 
yours,  and  to  hearts  as  loving  as  ever  welcomed  heroes  home  ? 

Let  me  picture  to  you  the  footsore  Confederate  soldier  as, 
buttoning  up  in  his  faded  gray  jacket  the  parol  which  was  to 
bear  testimony  to  his  children  of  his  fidelity  and  his  faith,  he 
turned  his  face  southward  from  Appomattox  in  April,  1865. 
Think  of  him  as  ragged,  half  starved,  heavy  hearted,  enfeebled 
by  want  and  wounds,  having  fought  to  exhaustion,  he  surrenders 
his  gun,  wrings  the  hand  of  his  comrades  in  silence,  and  lifting 
his  tear-stained  and  pallid  face  for  the  last  time  to  the  graves 
that  dot  old  Virginia's  hills,  pulls  his  gray  cap  over  his  brow, 
and  begins  his  slow  and  painful  journey. 

What  does  he  find — let  me  ask  you — what  does  he  find, 
when,  having  followed  the  battle-stained  cross  against  over- 
whelming odds,  dreading  death  not  half  so  much   as  surrender, 


THE  NEW   SOUTH.  0 

he  reaches  the  home  lie  left  so  prosperous  and  beautiful.  He 
finds  liis  house  in  ruins,  his  farm  devastated,  his  slaves  free,  his 
stock  killed,  his  barns  empty,  his  trade  destroyed,  his  money 
worthless;  his  social  system,  feudal  in  its  magnificence,  swept 
away  ;  his  people  without  law  or  legal  status,  his  comrades  slain, 
and  the  burdens  of  others  heavy  on  his  shoulders.  Crushed  by 
defeat,  his  very  traditions  are  gone.  Without  money,  credit,  em- 
ployment, material  or  training;  and,  besides  all  this,  confronted 
with  the  gravest  problem  that  ever  met  human  intelligence — the 
establishment  of  a  status  for  the  vast  body  of  his  liberated 
slaves. 

What  does  he  do,  this  hero  in  gray  with  a  heart  of  gold? 
Does  he  sit  down  in  sulleness  and  despair?  Not  for  a  day. 
Surely  God,  who  had  stripped  hiw  ot  his  prosperity,  inspired 
him  in  his  adversity.  As  ruin  was  never  before  so  overwhelm, 
ing,  never  was  restoration  swifter.  The  soldiers  stepped  from 
the  trenches  into  the  furrow  ;  horses  that  had  charged  Federal 
guns  marched  before  the  plough,  and  fields  that  ran  red  with 
human  blood  in  April   were  green   with  the  harvest  in  June. 

But  what  is  the  sum  of  our  work  ?  We  have  found  out  thai 
the  free  negro  counts  more  than  he  did  as  a  slave.  WTe  have 
planted  the  schoolhouse  on  the  hilltop,  and  made  it  free  to  white 
and  black.  We  have  sowed  towns  and  cities  in  the  place  of 
theories,  and  put  business  above  politics. 

The  New  South  is  enamored  of  her  new  work.  Her  soul  is 
stirred  with  the  breath  of  a  new  life.  The  light  of  a  grander 
day  is  falling  fair  on  her  face.  She  is  thrilling  with  a  con. 
sciousness  of  growing  power  and  prosperity.  As  she  stands 
upright,  full  Btatured  and  equal,  among  the  peoples  of  the  earth, 
breathing  the  keen  air  and  looking  out  upon  the  expanding 
horizon,  she  understands  that  her  emancipation  came  because, 
through  the  inscrutable  wisdom  of  God,  her  honest  purpose  was 
crossed  and  her  brave  armies  were  beaten. 

Now  what  answer  has  New  England  to  this  message?  Will 
she  withhold,  save  in  strained  courtesy,  the  hand  which  straight 
from  his  soldier's  heart  Grant  offered  to  Lee  at  Appomattox  ? 
If  she  does,  the  Smith,  never  abject  in  asking  for  comradeship, 
must  accept  with  dignity  its  refusal ;  but  if  she  does  not  refuse 
to  accept  in  frankness  and  sincerity  this  message  of  good-will 
and  friendship,  then  will  the  prophecy  of  Webster,  delivered  in 
this  very  Bociety  forty  years  ago, be  verified  in  its  fullest  extent, 
when  he  -aid  :  "  Standing  hand  to  hand  and  clasping  hands,  we 
should  remain  united  as  we  have  been  for  sixty  years:  citizens  of 


6  ROSS'S  SPEAKER. 

the  same  country,  members  of  the  same  government,  united,  all 
united  now,  and  united  forever." 


The  Old  South  and  the  New—  henry  w.  Grady. 

It  was  Ben  Hill,  the  music  of  whose  voice  is  now  attuned  to 
the  symphonies  of  the  skies,  who  said,  "  There  was  a  South  of 
secession  and  slavery ;  that  South  is  dead ;  there  is  a  South 
of  union  and  freedom ;  that  South,  thank  God,  is  living,  grow- 
ing every  hour." 

In  answering  the  toast  to  the  New  South  to-night,  I  accept 
that  name  in  no  disparagement  to  the  Old  South.  Dear  to  me, 
sir,  is  the  home  of  my  childhood  and  the  traditions  of  my 
people,  and  not  for  the  glories  of  New  England's  history,  from 
Plymouth  Rock,  all  the  way,  would  I  surrender  the  least  of 
these.  Never  shall  I  do,  or  say,  aught  to  dim  the  lustre  of  the 
glory  of  my  ancestors,  won  in  peace  and  in  war.  Where  is  the 
young  man  in  the  South  who  has  spoken  one  word  in  disparage- 
ment of  our  past,  or  has  worn  lightly  the  sacred  traditions  of 
his  fathers?  The  world  has  not  equalled  the  unquestioning 
reverence  and  the  undying  loyalty  of  the  young  men  of  the 
South,  to  the  memory  of  our  fathers.  I  have  stood  with  them 
shoulder  to  shoulder,  as  they  met  new  conditions  without  sur- 
rendering old  faiths,  and  I  have  been  content  to  feel  the  grasp 
of  their  hands  and  the  throb  of  their  hearts,  as  they  marched 
unfearing  into  new  and  untried  ways. 

If  I  should  attempt  to  prostitute  the  generous  enthusiasm  of 
these,  my  comrades,  to  my  own  ambition,  I  should  be  unworthy. 
If  any  man,  enwrapping  himself  in  the  sacred  memories  of  the 
Old  South,  should  prostitute  them  to  the  hiding  of  his  weakness 
or  the  strengthening  of  his  failing  fortunes,  that  man  would  be 
unworthy.  If  any  man,  for  his  own  advantage,  should  seek  to 
divide  the  Old  South  from  the  New,  or  the  New  from  the  Old 
— to  separate  these  that  in  love  have  been  joined  together — to 
estrange  the  son  from  his  father's  grave  and  turn  our  children 
from  the  memories  of  our  dead — to  embitter  the  closing  days 
of  our  veterans  with  the  suspicion  of  the  sons  that  shall  follow 
them,  that  man's  words  are  unworthy  and  spoken  to  the  injury 
of  his  people. 

Some  one  has  said,  in  derision,  that  the  old  men  of  the  South, 
sitting  down  amid  their  ruins,  reminded  him  of  "  the  Spanish 


UNDER   THE   SOUTHERN   FLAG.  7 

hidalgoes  sitting  in  the  porches  of  the  Alhambra  and  looking 
out  to  sea  for  the  return  of  the  lost  Armada."  There  is  pathos 
but  no  derision  in  this  picture  to  me.  These  men  were  our 
fathers.  Their  lives  were  stainless.  Their  hands  were  daintily 
cast,  and  the  civilization  they  builded  in  tender  and  engaging 
grace  hath  not  been  equalled.  The  scenes  amid  which  they 
moved,  as  princes  among  men,  have  vanished  forever.  A 
grosser  and  more  material  day  has  come,  in  which  their  gentle 
hands  can  garner  but  scantily,  and  their  guileless  hearts  fend 
but  feebly.  Let  me  sit,  therefore,  in  the  dismantled  porches  of 
their  homes,  into  which  dishonor  hath  never  entered — to  which 
discourtesy  is  a  stranger,  and  gaze  out  to  sea,  beyond  the  horizon 
of  which  their  Armada  has  drifted  forever.  And  though  the  sea 
shall  not  render  back  for  them  the  Argosies  which  went  down  in 
their  ships,  let  us  build  for  them,  in  the  land  they  love  so  well, 
a  stately  and  enduring  temple,  its  pillars  founded  in  justice,  its 
arches  springing  to  the  skies,  its  treasuries  filled  with  substance, 
liberty  walking  in  its  corridors  and  religion  filling  its  aisles  with 
incense  ;  and  here  let  them  rest  in  honorable  peace  and  tranquil- 
ity until  God  shall  call  them  hence,  to  "  a  house  not  made  with 
hands,  eternal  in  the  heavens." 


Under  the  Southern  Flag.— John  w.  Daniel. 

There  was  no  happier  or  lovelier  home  than  that  of  Col.  Robert 
E.  Lee  in  the  spring  of  1861,  when  for  the  first  time  its  thresh- 
old was  darkened  with  the  omens  of  Civil  War.  Crowning  the 
green  slopes  of  the  Virginia  hills  that  overlook  the  Potomac, 
and  embowered  in  stately  trees,  stood  the  venerable  mansion  of 
Arlington,  facing  a  prospect  of  varied  and  imposing  beauty. 

So  -ituated  was  Colonel  Lee  in  the  spring  of  1861,  upon  the 
verge  of  the  momentous  revolution  of  which  he  became  so 
mighty  a  pillar  and  so  glorious  a  chieftain.  How  can  we  esti- 
mate the  sacrifice  lie  made  to  take  up  anus  against  the  Union? 
Lee  was  emphatically  a  Union  man;  and  Virginia,  to  the  crisis 
of  dissolution,  was  a  Union  state,  lie  loved  the  Union  with  a 
soldier's  ardent  loyalty  to  the  government  he  served,  ami  with 
a  patriot's  faith  and  hope  in  the  institutions  of  his  country.  In 
January,  L861,  Colonel  Lee,  then  with  his  regiment  in  Texas, 
wrote  to  his  son  : — "As  an  Americah  citizen,  I  take  great  pri<lc 
in  my  country,  her  prosperity  and  institutions;  and  yet  1  wouid 
defeml  my  State  W<  re  her  rights  invaded.      But  I  can  anticipate 


8  ROSS'S   SPEAKER. 

no  greater  calamity  to  the  country  than  a  dissolution  of  the 
Union.  Secession  is  nothing  but  revolution.  *  *  *  If  the 
Union  is  dissolved,  I  shall  return  to  my  native  state  and  share 
the  miseries  of  my  people  and,  save  in  defence,  will  draw  my 
sword  on  none." 

The  war-cloud  lowered.  On  April  15th  came  President  Lin-> 
coin's  proclamation  for  75,000  men.  This  proclamation  deter- 
mined Virginia's  course,  and  an  ordinance  of  secession  was 
passed.     War  had  come. 

"  Under  which  flag  ? "  was  the  sternly  pathetic  question  that 
Lee  must  now  answer.  On  the  one  hand  Virginia,  now  in  the 
fore-front  of  a  scarcely  organized  revolution,  summoned  him  to 
share  her  lot  in  the  perilous  adventure.  The  young  Confederacy 
is  without  an  army ;  there  is  no  navy,  no  currency.  There  is 
little  but  a  meagre  and  widely  scattered  population,  for  the 
most  part  men  of  the  field,  the  prairie,  the  forest  and  the  moun- 
tain, ready  to  stand  the  hazard  of  an  audacious  endeavor.  Did 
he  fail,  his  beloved  state  would  be  trampled  in  the  mire  of  the 
ways ;  his  people  would  be  captives,  their  very  slaves  their  mas- 
ters ;  and  he — if  of  himself  he  thought  at  all — he,  mayhap,  may 
have  seen  in  the  dim  perspective  the  shadow  of  the  dungeon  or 
the  scaffold. 

On  the  other  hand  stands  the  foremost  and  most  powerful 
Republic  of  the  earth.  Its  regular  army  and  its  myriad  volun- 
teers rush  to  do  its  bidding.  Its  capital  lies  in  sight  of  his 
chamber  window,  and  its  guns  bear  on  the  portals  of  his  home. 
A  messenger  comes  from  its  President  and  from  General  Scott, 
Commander-in-Chief  of  its  army,  to  tender  him  supreme  com- 
mand of  its  forces.  No  man  could  have  undergone  a  more  try- 
ing ordeal  or  met  it  with  a  higher  spirit  of  heroic  self-sacrifice, 
since  the  Son  of  Man  stood  upon  the  Mount,  saw  "  all  the  king- 
doms of  earth  and  the  glory  thereof,"  and  turned  away  from 
them  to  the  agony  of  Gethsemane. 

To  the  statesman,  Mr.  Francis  P.  Blair,  who  brought  him  the 
tender  of  supreme  command,  Lee  answered,  "  Mr.  Blair,  I  look 
upon  secession  as  anarchy.  If  I  owned  the  four  million  slaves 
in  the  South,  I  would  sacrifice  them  all  to  the  Union.  But  how 
can  I  draw  my  sword  against  Virginia?" 

Draw  his  sword  against  Virginia?  Perish  the  thought!  Over 
all  the  voices  that  called  he  heard  the  still  small  voice  that  ever 
whispers  to  the  soul  of  the  spot  that  gave  it  birth;  and  over 
every  ambitious  dream  there  rose  the  face  of  the  angel  that 
guards  the  door  of  home. 


A   TYPICAL   HERO.  9 

I  pause  not  here  to  defend  the  course  of  General  Lee.  In  the 
supreme  moments  of  national  life,  as  in  the  lives  of  individuals, 
the  actor  must  resolve  and  act  within  himself  alone.  The  South- 
ern states  acted  for  themselves — the  Northern  states  for  them- 
selves— Virginia  for  herself.  And  when  the  lines  of  hattle 
formed,  Lee  took  his  place  in  the  line  beside  his  people,  his 
kindred,  his  children,  his  home.  Let  his  defence  rest  on  this 
fact  alone.  Nature  speaks  it.  Nothing  can  strengthen  it.  Noth- 
ing can  weaken  it.  The  historian  may  compile  ;  the  casuist  may- 
dissect  ;  the  statesman  may  expatiate  ;  the  advocate  may  plead  ; 
the  jurist  may  expound;  but,  after  all,  there  can  be  no  stronger 
and  tenderer  tie  than  that  which  binds  the  faithful  heart  to 
kindred  and  to  home.  And  on  that  tie — stretching  from  the 
cradle  to  the  grave,  spanning  the  heavens,  and  riveted  through 
eternity  to  the  throne  of  God  on  high,  and  underneath  in  the 
souls  of  good  men  and  true — on  that  tie  x'ests,  stainless  and  im- 
mortal, the  fame  of  Robert  E.  Lee. 


A  Typical  Hero.— John  W.  Daniel. 

At  the  bottom  of  true  heroism  is  unselfishness.  Its  crowning 
expression  is  sacrifice.  The  world  is  suspicious  of  vaunted 
heroes;  but  when  the  true  hero  has  come,  how  the  hearts  of 
men  leap  forth  to  greet  him — how  worshipfully  we  welcome 
God's  noblest  work — the  strong,  honest,  fearless,  upright  man! 

In  Robert  E.  Lee  was  such  a  hero  vouchsafed  to  us  and  to 
mankind,  and  whether  we  behold  him  declining  command  of  the 
Federal  army  t<>  fight  the  battles  and  to  share  the  miseries  of 
his  own  people;  proclaiming  on  the  heights  in  front  of  Gettys- 
burg that  the  fault  of  the  disaster  was  his  own  ;  leading  charges 
in  the  crisis  of  combat;  walking  under  the  yoke  of  conquest 
without  a  murmur  of  complaint;  or  refusing  fortunes  to  go  to 
Washington  and  Lee  University  to  train  the  youth  of  his  coun- 
try in  the  path  of  duty  —  he  is  ever  the  same  meek,  grand,  self- 
sacrificing  spirit.  As  President  of  Washington  College  he 
exhibited  qualities  not  less  worthy  and  heroic  than  those  dis- 
played on  the  broad  and  open  theatre  of  conflict,  when  the  eyes 
of  nations  watched  his  every  action.  In  the  calm  repose  of 
civic  and  domestic  duties  and  in  the  trying  routine  of  incessant 

task-,  he  lived  a  life  as  high  as  when,  day  by  day,  he  marshalled 
his  thin  and  wasting  lines.      In  the  quiet  walks  of  academic  life, 


10  ROSS'S  SPEAKER. 

far  removed  from  "  war  or  battle's  sound,"  came  into  view  the 
towering  grandeur,  the  massive  splendor  and  the  loving  kindness 
of  the  character  of  General  Lee,  and  the  very  sorrows  that  over- 
hung his  life  seemed  luminous  with  celestial  hues.  There  he 
revealed  in  manifold  gracious  hospitalities,  tender  charities,  and 
patient,  worthy  counsels  how  deep  and  pure  and  inexhaustible 
were  the  fountains  of  his  virtues.  And  loving  hearts  delight  to 
recall,  as  loving  lips  will  ever  delight  to  tell,  the  thousand  little 
things  he  did  which  sent  forth  lines  of  light  to  irradiate  the 
gloom  of  the  conquered  land  and  to  lift  up  the  hopes  and  cheer 
the  works  of  his  people. 

Come  we  then  to-day  in  loyal  love  to  sanctify  our  memories, 
to  purify  our  hopes,  to  make  strong  all  good  intent  by  com- 
munion with  the  spirit  of  him  who,  being  dead,  yet  speaketh. 
Let  us  crown  his  tomb  with  the  oak,  the  emblem  of  his  strength, 
and  with  the  laurel,  the  emblem  of  his  glory.  And  as  we  seem 
to  gaze  once  more  on  him  we  loved  and  hailed  as  chief,  the 
tranquil  face  is  clothed  with  heaven's  light  and  the  mute  lips 
seem  eloquent  with  the  message  that  in  life  he  spoke : 

"  There  is  a  true  glory  and  a  true  honor  ;  the  glory  of  duty 
done,  the  honor  of  the  integrity  of  principle." 


Industrial  Slavery.— B.  E.  Tillman,  of  South  Carolina. 

The  money  changers  are  in  the  temple  of  our  liberties  and 
have  bought  the  sentinels  on  guard.  It  may  be  too  late.  God 
grant  it  be  not  so ;  but  this  great  Republic  can  only  be  saved 
from  the  miseries  of  revolution  and  internecine  strife  in  the  near 
future  by  its  citizens  casting  aside  blind  allegiance  to  party  and 
marshalling  themselves  under  the  banner  of  Jefferson's  Democ- 
racy and  Lincoln's  Republicanism,  determined  to  restore  the  Re- 
public to  the  form  in  which  it  was  left  to  us  by  the  fathers,  and 
since  consecrated  by  the  blood  of  brothers,  shed  in  Civil  War, 
engendered  and  brought  about  by  just  such  statesmanship  as  we 
have  here.  The  encroachments  of  the  Federal  judiciary,  and 
the  supineness  and  venality — corruption,  I  may  say — of  the 
representative  branches  of  the  Government  are  causes  of  deep 
concern  to  all  thinking  and  patriotic  men.  We  are  fast  drifting 
into  government  by  injunction  in  the  interest  of  monopolies  and 
corporations,  and  the  Supreme  Court,  by  one  corrupt  vote,  an- 
nuls an  act  of  Congress  looking  to  the  taxation  of  the  rich. 


INDUSTRIAL   SLAVERY.  11 

A  day  of  reckoning  will  come,  unless  there  is  no  longer  a  just 
God  in  heaven ;  and  when  it  does  come,  woe  be  unto  those  who 
have  been  among  the  oppressors  of  the  people.  The  present 
struggle  is  unfortunately  too  like  that  which  preceded  the  late 
Civil  War,  inasmuch  as  it  is  sectional.  The  creditor  and  the  man- 
ufacturing states  of  the  North  and  East,  those  which  have  grown 
inordinately  wealthy  at  the  expense  of  the  producing  classes  of 
the  South  and  West,  are. urging  this  policy  with  the  besotted 
blindness  of  Belshazzar.  The  old  slaveholders  of  the  South  were 
not  more  arrogant  or  more  determined.  "  The  sordid  despotism 
of  wealth,"  to  use  the  apt  phrase  of  Justice  Brown,  is  already  felt 
throughout  the  land.  The  Representatives  in  Congress  from 
those  states,  without  regard  to  party  affiliations,  are  solidly 
arrayed  under  the  banner  of  monopoly  and  the  gold  standard. 
Greed  and  self-interest  seem  alone  to  actuate  them.  Self-pres- 
ervation and  patriotism  should  bind  the  South  and  W  est  in 
equally  strong  bonds  of  union.  We  cannot  afford  to  longer  put 
party  above  country. 

You  have  already  been  told  in  glowing  language  by  the  elo- 
quent Senator  from  Missouri  that  the  conflict  is  "  irrepressible," 
and  it  is  easy  to  see  from  the  temper  and  feeling  of  the  equally 
distinguished.  Senator  from  Colorado  and  other  western  Sena- 
tors that  the  struggle  for  the  new  emancipation  has  begun.  And 
the  new  Mason  and  Dixon's  line  which  is  drawn,  not  by  the  sur- 
veyor, but  by  the  denial  of  the  natural  and  inalienable  "  right  to 
life,  liberty,  and  the  pursuit  of  happiness"  to  a  large  majority  of 
citizens,  will  sooner  or  later  bring  together  in  the  bonds  of  union 
the  toiling  and  now  down-trodden  masses  of  the  cities  and  the 
equally  desperate  masses  of  the  country ;  agrarianism  and  com- 
munism will  join  hands.  There  are  millions  now  on  the  march, 
and  they  tramp,  tramp,  tramp;  tramp  the  sidewalks  hunting 
work  and  tramp  the  highways  begging  bread.  Unless  relief 
comes  they  will  some  day  take  a  notion  to  tramp  to  Washing- 
ton, with  rifles  in  their  hands,  to  regain  their  liberties  which 
have  been  stolen  from  them  or  which  their  representatives  have 
sold;  and  the  hitherto  conservative  force  of  the  Republic,  the 
well-to-do  agricultural  class,  will  lift  no  hand  to  stay  the  march, 
but  join  it.  God  grant  that  our  country  may  b«'  spared  the  enact- 
ment of  such  scenes  as  were  witnessed  in  Paris  in  lTs'.t.  But 
the  fair  flower  of  liberty  planted  by  Jefferson  in  the  immortal 
Declaration  of  the  ith  of  July,  1 776,  watered  by  the  blood  of  our 
Revolutionary  sires  under  Washington,  cannot  be  uprooted  or 
smothered  by  the  noxious  weedsof  monopoly  and  class  privilege 


12  ROSS'S   SPEAKER. 

without  bloodshed ;  and  a  cataclysm,  which  will  give  us  a  mili- 
tary despotism,  or  leave  the  Republic  redeemed,  regenerated,  and 
disenthralled,  is  just  as  sure  to  come  as  yonder  sun  shines  in  the 
heavens,  unless  we  do  our  duty  here  and  take  the  hands  of  these 
conspirators  off  the  people's  throats  and  give  them  an  opportunity 
to  breathe,  to  work,  to  live. 


"  Lest  We  .Fon^."— David  Starr  Jordan. 

Patriotism  is  the  will  to  serve  one's  country,  to  make  one's 
country  better  worth  serving.  It  is  a  course  of  action  rather 
than  a  sentiment.  The  shrilling  of  the  mob  is  not  patriotism. 
It  is  not  patriotism  to  trample  on  the  Spanish  flag,  to  burn  fire- 
crackers, or  to  twist  the  Lion's  tail.  The  "  glory  "  of  war  turns 
our  attention  from  civic  affairs.  Neglect  invites  corruption. 
Noble  and  necessary  as  was  our  Civil  War,  we  have  not  yet  recov- 
ered from  its  degrading  influences.  The  war  with  Spain  has 
united  at  last  the  North  and  South,  we  say.  So,  at  least,  it  ap- 
pears. When  Fitzhugh  Lee  is  called  a  Yankee,  and  all  the  haughty 
Lees  seem  proud  of  the  designation,  we  may  be  sure  that  the  old 
lines  of  division  exist  no  longer.  But  our  present  solidarity  shows 
that  the  nation  was  sound  already,  else  a  month  could  not  have 
welded  it  together. 

It  is  twenty-eight  years  ago  to-day  that  a  rebel  soldier,  who 
says, 

"  I  am  a  Southerner, 

I  loved  the  South  and  dared  for  her 

To  fight  from  Lookout  to  the  sea 

With  her  proud  banner  over  me." 

stood  before  the  ranks  of  the  Grand  Army  and    spoke   these 

words : 

"  I  stand  and  say  that  you  were  right; 
I  greet  you  with  uncovered  head, 
Remembering  many  a  thunderous  fight 
When  whistling  death  between  us  sped ; 
I  clasp  the  hand  that  made  my  scars, 
I  cheer  the  flag  my  foemen  bore, 
I  shout  for  joy  to  see  the  stars 
All  on  our  common  shield  once  more." 

This  was  more  than  a  quarter  of  a  century  ago,  and  all  this 
time  the  great  loyal   South  has   patiently  and   unflinchingly  ac- 


"LEST   WE   FORGET."  13 

cepted  war's  terrible  results.  It  is  not  strange,  then,  that  she 
shows  her  loyalty  to-day.  The  "  Solid  South,"  the  bugaboo  of 
politicians,  the  cloak  of  Northern  venality,  has  passed  away  for- 
ever. The  warm  response  to  American  courage,  in  whatever 
section  or  party,  shows  that,  with  all  our  surface  divisions,  we 
of  America  are  one  in  heart.  And  this  very  solidarity  should 
make  us  pause  before  entering  upon  a  career  of  militarism.  Un- 
forgetting,  open-eyed,  counting  all  the  cost,  let  us  make  our 
decision.  The  Federal  republic,  the  imperial  republic — which 
shall  it  be  1 

The  policing  of  far-off  islands,  the  maintenance  of  the  ma- 
chinery of  imperialism,  are  petty  things  beside  the  duties  which 
the  higher  freedom  brings.  To  turn  to  these  empty  and  showy 
affairs  is  to  neglect  our  own  business  for  the  gossip  of  our  neigh- 
bors. Such  work  may  be  a  matter  of  necessity  ;  it  should  not 
be  a  source  of  pride.  The  political  greatness  of  England  has 
never  lain  iu  her  navies  nor  the  force  of  her  arms.  It  has  lain 
in  her  struggles  for  individual  freedom.  Not  Marlborough,  nor 
Nelson,  nor  Wellington,  is  its  exponent;  let  us  say  rather  Pym 
and  Hampden,  and  Gladstone  and  Bright.  The  real  problems 
of  England  have  always  been  at  home.  The  pomp  of  impe- 
rialism, the  display  of  naval  power,  the  commercial  control  of 
India  and  China — all  these  are  as  the  bread  and  circuses  by 
which  the  Roman  emperors  held  the  mobs  from  their  thrones. 
They  keep  the  people  busy,  and  put  off  the  day  of  final  reckon- 
ing. "Gild  the  dome  of  the  Invalides"  was  Napoleon's  cyn- 
ical command  when  he  learned  that  the  people  of  Paris  were 
becoming  desperate. 

A  foe  is  always  at  the  gates  of  a  nation  with  a  vigorous 
foreign  policy.  The  British  nation  is  hated  and  feared  of 
all  nations  except  our  own.  Only  her  eternal  vigilance  keeps 
the  vultures  from  her  coasts.  Eternal  vigilance  of  this  sort 
will  strengthen  governments,  will  build  up  nations;  it  will  not 
in  lik*'  degree  make  men.  The  day  of  the  nations  as  nations 
is  passing.  National  ambitions,  national  hopes,  national  ag- 
grandizements— all  these  may  become  public  nuisances.  Im- 
perialism, like  feudalism,  belongs  to  the  past.  The  men  of  the 
world  ;t-  men,  doI  as  nations,  are  drawing  closer  together.     The 

Deeds  of   commerce    are   Stronger   than    the  will  of   nations,  and 

the  final  guarantee  of  peace  and  <_f. >c ><  1-will  among  men  will  be 

not  "  the  parliament  of  nations,"  l.iit  the  self-control  df  men. 

Borne  great  changes  in  our  system  are  inevitable,  and  belong 
to  the  course,  of  natural  progress.    Against  them  I  have  nothing 


14  ROSS'S   SPEAKER. 

to  say.  Whatever  our  part  in  the  affairs  of  the  world,  we  should 
play  it  manfully.  But  with  all  this  I  believe  that  the  movement 
toward  broad  dominion  would  be  a  step  downward.  It  would 
be  to  turn  from  our  highest  purposes  to  drift  with  the  current 
of  "  manifest  destiny."  It  would  be  not  to  do  the  work  of 
America,  but  to  follow  the  ways  of  the  rest  of  the  world. 

"God  of  our  fathers,  known  of  old — 
Lord  of  our  far-flung  battle  line — 
Beneath  whose  awful  hand  we  hold 
Dominion  over  palm  and  pine; 
Lord  God  of  Hosts,  be  with  us  yet, 
Lest  we  forget,  lest  we  forget. 

The  tumult  and  the  shouting  dies, 
The  captains  and  the  kings  depart — 
Still  stands  Thine  ancient  Sacrifice, 
An  humble  and  a  contrite  heart. 
Lord  God  of  Hosts,  be  with  us  yet, 
Lest  we  forget,  lest  we  forget. 

Far-called  our  navies  melt  away — 
On  dune  and  headland  sinks  the  fire — 
Lo,  all  our  pomp  of  yesterday 
Is  one  with  Nincvah  and  Tyre  ! 
Judge  of  the  nations,  spare  us  yet, 
Lest  we  forget,  lest  we  forget." 


Energy.—  Alexander  H.  Stephens. 

By  energy  I  mean  application,  attention,  activity,  persever- 
ance, and  untiring  industry  in  that  business  or  pursuit,  whatever 
it  may  be,  which  is  undertaken.  Nothing  great  or  good  can 
ever  be  accomplished  without  labor  and  toil.  Motion  is  the  law 
of  living  nature.  Inaction  is  the  symbol  of  death,  if  it  is  not 
death  itself.  The  hugest  engines,  with  strength  and  capacity 
sufficient  to  drive  the  mightiest  ships  across  the  stormy  deep, 
are  utterly  useless  without  a  moving  power. 

Energy  is  the  steam-power,  the  motive-principle  of  intellectual 
capacity.  A  small  body  driven  by  a  great  force  will  produce  a 
result  equal  to,  or  even  greater  than,  that  of  a  much  larger  body 
moved  by  a  considerably  less  force.  So  it  is  with  our  minds. 
Hence  it  is  that  we  often  see  men  of  comparatively  small  capac- 


THE    IRON   WILL   OF    ANDREW   JACKSON.  15 

ity,  by  greater  energy  alone,  leave  —  and  justly  leave  —  their 
superiors  in  natural  gifts  far  behind  them  in  the  race  for  hon- 
ors, distinction,  and  preferment. 

It  is  this  principle  in  human  nature  which  imparts  that  quality 
which  we  designate  by  the  very  expressive  term,  "  force  of  char- 
acter," which  meets,  defies,  and  bears  down  all  opposition.  This 
is,  perhaps,  the  most  striking  characteristic  of  those  great  minds 
and  intellects  which  never  fail  to  impress  their  names,  ideas,  and 
opinions  indelibly  upon  the  history  of  the  times  in  which  they 
live. 

Men  of  this  class  are  those  pioneers  of  thought  who  sometimes, 
even  "  in  advance  of  the  age,"  are  known  and  marked  in  history 
as  originators  and  discoverers,  or  those  who  overturn  old  orders 
and  systems  of  things  and  build  up  new  ones.  To  this  class  be- 
long Columbus,  Watt,  Fulton,  Franklin,  and  Washington.  It 
was  to  this  same  class  that  General  Jackson  belonged ;  for  he 
not  only  had  a  very  clear  conception  of  his  purpose,  but  a  will 
and  energy  to  execute  it.  And  it  is  in  the  same  class,  or  among 
the  first  order  of  men,  that  Henry  Clay  will  be  assigned  a  place. 

His  aims  and  objects  were  high,  and  worthy  of  the  greatest 
efforts ;  they  were  not  to  secure  the  laurels  won  on  the  battle- 
field, but  those  wreaths  which  adorn  the  brow  of  the  wise,  the 
firm,  the  sagacious,  and  far-seeking  statesman.  In  his  life  and 
character  a  most  striking  example  is  presented  of  what  energy 
and  indomitable  perseverance  can  do  even  when  opposed  by 
most  adverse  circumstances. 


The  Iron  Will  of  Andretv  Jackson. 

Both  friends  and  foes  have  I  >csto wed  on  Andrew  Jackson  the 
characteristic  of  being  a  man  of  iron  will.  When  this  is  meant 
to  imply  hardness  of  heart,  nothing  could  be  further  from  the 
truth,  hut  when  it  means  that  his  sense  of  duty  was  strong,  and 
stronger  even  than  his  feelings,  the  term  may  not  have  been 
misapplied. 

His  iri. n  will  was  mere  firmness  or  inflexibility  in  the  cause 
be  deemed  ri^ht.  It  was  an  indomitable  resolution  to  carry  out 
what  conscience  dictated,  Judgment  and  the  fruits  of  it,  opin- 
ion and  corresponding  conduct,  it  seemed  to  him,  ought  to  be 
inseparable.  He  knew  of  no  compromise  or  half-way  measures 
with   what  was  WTOng. 

This  high  moral  tone,  though  often  imputed  to  him  as  a  fault, 


16  ROSS'S   SPEAKER. 

was  in  fact  the  crowning  glory  of  Lis  character,  whether  as  a 
man,  a  warrior,  or  a  politician.  So  far  as  its  having  proved  in- 
consistent with  seeking  full  advice,  and  weighing  contradictory 
reasons,  and  adopting  measures  of  conciliation,  where  justifiable 
and  wise,  it  was  generally  preceded  by  the  amplest  inquiries  and 
careful  deliberation.  But  a  conclusion  having  been  once  formed, 
his  mind  and  heart  were  flung  into  its  execution  with  almost 
resistless  energy,  and  then  in  fortitude  to  resist  opposition,  and 
in  courage  to  brave  all  difficulties,  and  inflexible  perseverance  to 
carry  out  measures  deemed  right,  he  may  well  have  been  called 
a  man  of  iron,  a  man  of  destiny,  or  the  hero  of  the  iron  will. 


Men  and  Memories  of  the  South.- t.  j.  Powell. 

The  most  momentous  century  of  time  is  nearly  ended  and  our 
faces  arc  turned  toward  the  east  awaiting  the  sunrise  of  a  new  one. 
Your  life's  work  is  nearly  done,  and  the  superb  citizenship  of  our 
fair  South,  which  spring  from  your  loins,  will  take  up  the  prob- 
lems of  life  and  government,  ennobled  and  strengthened  by  the 
loyalty,  courage  and  devotion  of  its  ancestry.  When  the  last 
leaf  is  turned  and  the  volume  is  carefully  and  tenderly  placed 
in  position,  that  portion  devoted  to  our  Civil  War  will  hold  a 
record  to  which  your  children's  children  will  turn  and  stand  in 
amazement  before  the  sublimity  of  your  struggle  and  the  un- 
dimmed  lustre  of  your  fame.  There  they  will  find  the  seed  of 
the  Puritan  and  the  seed  of  the  Cavalier,  struggling  for  suprem- 
acy— the  conviction  of  the  one  battling  against  the  institutions 
of  the  other.  They  will  follow  the  two  streams  of  our  national 
life  meandering  from  Plymouth  Rock  and  Georgetown  into  that 
irrepressible,  unavoidable  clash  that  merged  them  into  a  common 
channel  amidst  the  awful  horrors  and  carnage  of  war.  They  will 
find  the  institutions  of  the  Cavalier,  not  lost,  but  remodeled  by 
the  convictions  of  the  Puritan,  and  the  convictions  of  the  Puri- 
tan not  altered  but  strengthened  and  broadened  by  the  quickened 
and  multiplied  stream  of  American  manhood — sublime  in  its 
amalgamated  virtue  and  power. 

On  July  21,  1861,  the  first  real  conflict  of  the  war  was  fought 
on  the  battlefield  of  Bull  Run.  How  easily  you  can  recall  the 
scene.  The  morning  sun  found  the  Federal  forces  on  the  hill  at 
Centreville.  The  flower  of  the  Southern  army  was  at  Stone 
House,  on  the  other  side  of  Pull  Pun.     Thousands  of  gay  equi- 


:me:s  and  memories  of  the  south.  17 

pages  trailed  in  the  rear  of  the  Union  army — camp  followers  who 
were  there  to  witness  the  end  of  the  war,  but  when  night  came 
they  were  scattered  to  the  winds  in  a  mad  and  riotous  rush  back 
to  the  national  capital,  while  victory  crowned  the  Confederate 
arms.  As  a  boy  I  have  hunted  over  the  historic  fields  and  oft- 
times  listeued  in  wondering  awe  to  the  recital  of  that  battle  by 
those  who  witnessed  it.  There  it  was  that  Jackson  earned  the 
name  of  "  Stonewall,"  a  name  that  gleams  in  the  night  of  our 
history  like  a  star  of  the  first  magnitude  o'er  a  mountain  peak. 
All  the  hot,  fierce  fire  of  the  noonday  sun  and  all  the  mildness 
of  the  midnight  moon  were  mingled  in  the  character  of  "  Stone- 
wall "  Jackson.  He  was  a  mosaic,  combining  the  convictions  of 
the  Puritan,  predominated  by  the  blood  of  a  Cavalier.  How 
proudly'  we  recall  him  in  his  marvelous  fights — a  flashing  sword 
— sweeping  irresistibly  the  enemy  from  his  pathway.  How 
tenderly  we  remember  him,  wrestling  in  prayer,  a  very  god  of 
war.  Even  now  our  eyes  grow  dim  at  the  recollection  of  that 
dark  night  near  Chancellorsville  when  he  fell  at  the  hands  of 
his  own  men,  and  "  crossed  over  the  river  to  rest  under  the 
shade  of  the  trees." 

Another  face  looks  at  me  from  memory  as  I  speak.  I  re- 
member upon  a  June  day  in  1876  climbing  a  Virginia  mountain 
with  a  fair-haired  daughter  of  a  Confederate  veteran  by  my 
side.  We  stopped  to  beg  a  drink  of  water  from  a  cabin  near 
it-  summit.  And  there  upon  a  rude  mantel  was  a  face  framed 
in  mountain  flowers.  For  a  moment  we  stood  almost  breath- 
less, for  in  that  rugged  feature  lav  the  volume  of  the  fallen 
Confederacy.  Sinee  then  1  have  seen  that  same  face  in  gilded 
frame  upon  the  frescoed  walls  of  the  rich — gazed  upon  its  grand 
outline  in  marble  and  bronze  in  many  public  places  in  the  South, 
where  in  heroic  size  it  Btands  a  sad  sentinel  over  the  bivouac  of 
the  ( Confederacy,  hut  never  has  it  so  filled  my  bosom  with  rev- 
erence and  love  as  when  in  that  mountain  cabin  1  looked  into 
the  face  of  Robert  E.  Lee.  He  was  the  embodiment  of  all  the 
genius,  virtue  and  courage  of  the  Cavalier.  A  purer  man  never 
lived.  II'1  \va>  the  inspiration,  the  hope  and  the  shield  of  the 
Confederacy.  His  military  genius  grows  brighter  and  brighter 
as  the  years  increase,  and  will  continue  so  until  the  history  pro- 
claims him  the  central  figure  of  the  year.  He  is  the  greatest 
memory  of  the  South. 

To  enumerate  further  would  be  folly,  for  the  roll  of  honor 
embraces  all  who  bared  their  breasts  in  the  struggle  or  guided 
its  fortunes  in  the  council  chamber.     And   now  as  I   again  bid 


18  ROSS'S   SPEAKER. 

you  welcome,  a  vision  of  your  old  homes  comes  to  me,  and  the 
rippling  words  of  an  old  song  bubbles  to  my  lips : 

"Turn  backward,  turn  backward,  oh,  time  in  your  flight, 
Make  me  a  boy  again  just  for  to-night." 

Fair,  beautiful  Southland  !  You  are  the  idol  of  our  wakeful 
moments,  the  soul  of  reverie  and  the  genius  of  our  dreams. 
We,  thy  children,  celebrate  thy  valor  and  thy  history.  Around 
tby  mountain  peaks  lay  the  dreams  of  our  youth,  and  lost  in 
thy  valleys  are  the  voices  of  our  childhood.  We  touch  upon 
the  harp  of  your  history,  and  lo !  the  soul  is  moved  with  the 
music  of  thy  fame.  In  thy  bosom  sleep  loved  and  lost  com- 
rades, covered  with  a  wilderness  of  bloom  and  perfume.  Fair, 
fair  Southland  !  Beautiful  in  thy  suffering ;  radiant  in  thy  re- 
newed greatness ;  may  God's  richest  blessing  rest  with  thea  and 

thy  children  forever. 

♦ 

The  Southern  Negro.— henry  w.  Grady. 

Far  to  the  south  lies  the  fairest  and  richest  domain  of  this 
earth.  But  why  is  it,  though  the  sectional  line  be  now  but  a 
mist  that  the  breath  may  dispel,  fewer  men  of  the  North  have 
crossed  it  over  to  the  South  than  when  it  was  crimson  with  the 
best  blood  of  the  Republic,  or  even  when  the  slaveholder  stood 
guard  every  inch  of  its  way  ?     There  can  be  but  one  answer. 

I  thank  God  as  heartily  as  you  do  that  human  slavery  is  gone 
forever  from  the  American  soil.  But  the  freedman  remains. 
With  him  a  problem  without  precedent  or  parallel.  Note  its 
appalling  conditions.  Two  utterly  dissimilar  races  on  the  same 
soil — with  equal  civil  and  political  rights — almost  equal  in  num- 
bers, but  terribly  unequal  in  intelligence  and  responsibility — 
each  pledged  against  fusion — one  for  a  century  in  servitude  to 
the  other,  and  freed  at  last  by  a  desolating  war — these  are  the 
conditions. 

Meanwhile  we  treat  the  negro  fairly,  measuring  to  him  jus- 
tice in  the  fulness  the  strong  should  give  to  the  weak,  and 
leading  him  in  the  steadfast  ways  of  citizenship  that  he  may  no 
longer  be  the  prey  of  the  unscrupulous  and  the  sport  of  the 
thoughtless.  The  love  we  feel  for  that  race  you  cannot  measure 
nor  comprehend.  As  I  attest  it  here,  the  spirit  of  my  old  black 
mammy  from  her  home  up  there  looks  down  to  bless,  and 
through  the  tumult  of  this  night  steals  the  sweet  music  of  her 
crooning,  as  thirty  years  ago  she  held  me  in  her  black  arms  and 
led  me  smiling  into  sleep. 


THE  BLUE  AND  THE  GRAY.  19 

I  catch  another  vision.  The  crisis  of  battle — a  soldier  struck, 
stao-o-erinc,  fallen;  I  see  a  slave  scuffling  through  the  smoke, 
winding  his  black  arms  about  the  fallen  form,  reckless  of  the 
hurtling  death,  bending  his  trusty  face  to  catch  the  words  that 
tremble  on  the  stricken  lips,  so  wrestling  meantime  with  agony 
that  he  would  lay  down  his  life  in  his  master's  stead.  I  see  him 
by  the  weary  bedside,  ministering  with  uncomplaining  patience, 
praying  with  all  his  humble  heart  that  God  will  lift  his  master 
up,  until  death  comes  in  mercy  and  in  honor  to  still  the  soldier's 
agony  and  seal  the  soldier's  life.  I  see  him  by  the  open  grave, 
mute,  motionless,  uncovered,  suffering  for  the  death  of  him  who 
in  life  fought  against  his  freedom. 

I  see  him  when  the  mound  is  heaped,  and  the  great  drama  of 
his  life  is  closed,  turn  away,  and  with  downcast  eyes  and  uncer- 
tain step  start  out  into  new  and  strange  fields,  falternig,  strug- 
gling, but  moving  on,  until  his  shambling  figure  is  lost  in  the 
light  of  this  better  and  brighter  day.  And  from  the  grave  comes 
a  voice,  saying  :  "  Follow  him  !  Put  your  arms  about  him  in 
his  need,  even  as  he  once  put  his  about  me.  Be  his  friend  as 
be  was  mine."  And  out  into  the  new  world — strange  to  me  as 
to  him,  dazzling,  bewildering  both — I  follow.  And  may  God 
forget  my  people — when  they  forget  these  ! 


Tlie  Blue  and  the  Gray. -henry  Cabot  lodge. 

I  was  a  boy  ten  years  old  when  the  troops  marched  away  to 
defend  Washington.  I  saw  the  troops,  month  after  month, 
pour  through  the  streets  of  Boston.  I  saw  Shaw  go  forth  at 
the  bead  of  bis  black  regiment,  and  Bartlett,  shattered  in  body 
but  dauntless  in  soul,  ride  by,  to  carry  what  was  left  of  him 
once  more  to  the  battlefields  of  the  Republic.  To  my  boyish 
mind  one  thing  alone  was  clear,  that  the  soldiers,  as  they 
marched  past,  were  all,  in  that  supreme  hour,  heroes  and  pa- 
triots. 

And  \"u,  brave  men  who  wore  the  gray,  would  be  the  first 
to  hold  me  or  any  other  son  of  the  North  in  just  contempt  if  I 
should  say  that  now  it  was  all  over  I  thought  the  North  was 
wrong  and  the  result  of  the  war  a  mistake.  To  the  men  who 
fought  the  battles  "f  the  Confederacy  we  hold  out  our  hands 
freely,  frankly  and  gladly.  We  have  no  bitter  memories  to 
revive,  no  reproaches  to  utter.  Differ  in  polities  and  in  a  thou- 
sand Other  ways  we  must  and  shall  in  all  good  nature,  but  never 


20  ROSS'S  SPEAKER. 

let  us  differ  with  each  other  on  sectional  or  state  lines,  by  race 
or  creed. 

We  welcome  you,  soldiers  of  Virginia,  as  others  more  elo- 
quent than  I  have  said,  to  New  England.  We  welcome  you  to 
old  Massachusetts.  We  welcome  you  to  Boston  and  Faneuil 
Hall.  In  your  presence  here,  and  at  the  sound  of  your  voices 
beneath  this  historic  roof,  the  years  roll  back,  and  we  see  the 
figure  and  hear  again  the  ringing  tones  of  your  great  orator, 
Patrick  Ilenry,  declaring  to  the  first  Continental  Congress : 
"  The  distinctions  between  Virginians,  Pennsylvanians,  New 
Yorkers  and  New  Englanders  are  no  more.  I  am  not  a  Vir- 
ginian, but  an  American." 

A  distinguished  Frenchman,  as  he  stood  among  the  graves  at 
Arlington,  said  :  "  Only  a  great  people  is  capable  of  a  great 
civil  war."  Let  us  add  with  thankful  hearts  that  only  a  great 
people  is  capable  of  a  great  reconciliation.  Side  by  side,  Vir- 
ginia and  Massachusetts  led  the  Colonies  into  the  War  for  Inde- 
pendence. Side  by  side,  they  founded  the  government  of  the 
United  States.  Morgan  and  Greene,  Lee  and  Knox,  Moultrie 
and  Prescott,  men  of  the  South  and  men  of  the  North,  fought 
shoulder  to  shoulder,  and  wore  the  same  uniform  of  buff  and 
blue — the  uniform  of  Washington. 

Mere  sentiment  all  this,  some  may  say.  But  it  is  sentiment, 
true  sentiment,  that  has  moved  the  world.  Sentiment  fought 
the  war,  and  sentiment  has  reunited  us.  So  I  say  that  the  sen- 
timent manifested  by  your  presence  here,  brethren  of  Virginia, 
sitting  side  by  side  with  those  who  wore  the  blue,  tells  that  if 
war  should  break  again  upon  the  country  the  sons  of  Virginia 
and  Massachusetts  would,  as  in  the  olden  days,  stand  once  more 
shoulder  to  shoulder,  with  no  distinction  in  the  colors  they 
wear.  It  is  fraught  with  tidings  of  peace  on  earth,  and  you 
may  read  its  meanings  in  the  words  on  yonder  picture, 
"  Liberty  and  union,  now  and  forever,  one  and  inseparable." 


From  Death  to  Life.— usury  w.  giudy. 

A  soldier  lay  wounded  on  a  hard-fought  battlefield  ;  the  roar 
of  the  battle  had  died  away,  and  he  rested  in  the  deathly  still- 
ness of  its  aftermath.  Not  a  sound  was  heard  as  he  lay  there, 
sorely  smitten  and  speechless,  but  the  shriek  of  wounded  and 
the  sigh  of  the  dying  soul,  as  it  escaped  from  the  turmoil  of 
earth  to  the  unspeakable  peace  of  the  stars.      Off  over  the  field 


FROM   DEATH   TO  LIFE.  21 

flickered  the  lanterns  of  the  surgeons,  with  the  litter-bearers. 
This  poor  soldier  watched,  unable  to  turn  or  speak,  as  the  lan- 
terns drew  near.  At  last  the  light  fell  in  his  face,  and  the  sur- 
geon bent  over  him,  hesitated  a  moment,  shook  his  head  and 
was  gone.  The  wounded  soldier  watched  in  patient  agony  as 
they  went  from  one  part  of  the  field  to  another.  As  they  came 
back,  the  surgeon  bent  over  him  again.  "  I  believe  if  this  poor 
fellow  lives  to  sundown  to-morrow  he  will  get  well,"  he  said, 
and  passed  on. 

All  niorht  long  these  words  fell  into  the  wounded  man's  heart 
as  the  dews  fell  from  the  stars  upon  his  lips,  "  if  he  but  lives  till 
to-morrow's  sundown  he  will  get  well."  He  turned  his  weary 
head  to  the  east  and  watched  for  the  coming  sun.  At  last  the 
stars  went  out,  the  east  trembled  with  radiance,  and  the  sun, 
slowly  lifting  above  the  horizon,  tinged  his  pallid  face  with 
flame".  He  watched  it  inch  by  inch  as  it  climbed  slowly  up  the 
heavens.  He  thought  of  life,  its  hopes  and  ambitions,  its  sweet- 
ness and  its  raptures,  and  he  fortified  his  soul  against  despair 
until  the  sun  had  reached  high  noon.  It  sloped  down  its  low 
descent,  and  his  life  was  ebbing  away  and  his  heart  was  faltering, 
and  he  needed  stronger  stimulants  to  make  him  stand  the  strug- 
gle until  the  end  of  the  day  had  come.  He  thought  of  his  far- 
off  home,  the  blessed  house  resting  in  tranquil  peace  with  the 
roses  climbing  to  its  door,  and  the  trees  whispering  to  its  win- 
dows; and  dozing  in  the  sunshine,  the  orchard,  and  the  little 
brook  running  like  a  silver  thread  through  the  forest. 

"If  I  live  till  sundown  I  will  see  it  again.  I  will  walk  down 
the  shady  lane,  I  will  open  the  battered  gate;  and  the  mocking- 
bird shall  call  me  from  the  orchard,  and  I  will  drink  again  at 
the  old  mossy  spring." 

And  he  thought  of  the  wife  who  had  come  from  the  neigbor- 
ing  farm  house  and  put  her  hand  slyly  into  his,  and  brought 
sweetness  to  his  life  and  light  to  his  home;  he  thought  of  the 
old  father,  patient  in  prayer,  and  bending  low  under  his  load  of 
sorrow  and  old  age;  he  thought  of  the  little  children  that  clam- 
bered on  his  knees,  making  to  him  such  music  as  the  world  shall 
not  equal  nor  heaven  surpass;  and  then  he  thought  of  his  old 
mother,  who  gathered  these  children  about  her  and  breathed  her 
old  heart  afresh  in  their  brightness  and  attuned  her  old  lips  anew 
to  their  prattle,  that  she  might  lire  till  her  big  boy  came  home. 

"If  I  live  till  sundown  I  will  see  them  all  again,  and  weep 
away  all  memories  of  this  desolate  night."  And  the  Son  of  God, 
Who  bad  died  for  men,  bending  from  the  star-,  put  His  hand  on 


22  ROSS'S   SPEAKER. 

the  ebbing  life  and  held  on  the  staunch  until  the  sun  went  down, 
and  the  stars  came  out  and  shone  in  the  brave  man's  heart  and 
blurred  in  his  glistening  eyes,  and  the  lanterns  of  the  surgeons 
came  and  he  was  taken  from  death  to  life. 

The  world  is  a  battlefield,  strewn  with  the  wrecks  of  govern- 
ments and  institutions,  of  theories  and  faiths  that  have  gone 
down  in  the  ravages  of  years.  On  this  field  lies  the  South,  sown 
with  her  problems.  Upon  the  field  swings  the  lanterns  of  God. 
Amid  the  carnage  walks  the  great  Physician.  Over  the  South 
He  bends.  "  If  ye  but  live  until  to-morrow's  sundown,  ye  shall 
endure,  my  countrymen."  Let  us  for  her  sake  turn  our  faces  to 
the  east  and  watch  as  the  soldier  watched  for  the  coming  sun. 
Let  us  staunch  her  wounds  and  hold  steadfast.  The  sun  mounts 
the  skies.  As  it  descends,  let  us  minister  to  her  and  stand  con- 
stant at  her  side  for  the  sake  of  our  children,  and  of  generations 
yet  unborn  that  shall  suffer  if  she  fails.  And  when  the  sun  has 
gone  down  and  the  day  of  her  probation  has  ended,  and  the 
stars  have  rallied  her  heart,  the  lanterns  shall  be  swung  over  the 
field  and  the  great  Physician  shall  lead  her  upward  from  trouble 
into  content,  from  suffering  into  peace,  from  death  to  life. 


Tlie  New  Union.— henry  watterson. 

The  duty  which  draws  us  together  and  the  day,  although 
appointed  by  law,  comes  to  us  laden  with  a  deeper  meaning 
than  they  have  ever  borne  before  ;  and  the  place  which  wit- 
nesses our  coming,  invests  the  occasion  with  increased  solemnity 
and  significance.  Within  this  dread  but  beautiful  city,  con- 
secrated in  all  our  hearts  and  all  our  homes,  two  plots  of  ground 
with  but  a  hillock  between  have  been  set  aside  to  mark  the 
resting  of  the  dead  of  two  armies  which  in  life  were  called 
hostile,  the  Army  of  the  Union,  the  Army  of  the  Confederacy. 
We  come  to  decorate  the  graves  of  those  who  died  fighting  for 
the  Union.  Presently  others  shall  come  to  decorate  the  graves 
of  those  who  died  for  the  Confederacy.  Yet  if  these  flower- 
covered  mounds  could  open  and  those  who  inhabit  them  could 
come  forth,  not  as  disembodied  spirits,  but  in  the  sentient  flesh 
and  blood  which  they  wore  when  they  went  hence  they  would 
rejoice  as  we  do  that  the  hopes  of  both  have  been  at  last  ful- 
filled, and  that  the  Confederacy,  swallowed  up  by  the  Union, 
lives  again  in  American  manhood  and  brotherhood,  such  as 
were  contemplated  by  the  makers  of  the  republic. 


A   PLEA   FOR    THE   SOUTHERN    NEGRO.  23 

To  those  of  us  who  were  the  comrades  and  contemporaries 
of  the  dead  that  are  buried  here,  who  survived  the  ordeal  of 
battle  and  who  live  to  bless  the  day,  there  is  nothing  strange  or 
unnatural  in  this,  because  we  have  seen  it  coming  for  a  long 
time;  we  have  seen  it  coming  in  the  kinship  of  ties  even  as 
close  as  those  of  a  common  country;  in  the  robust  intercourse 
of  the  forum  and  the  market  place  ;  in  the  sacred  interchanges 
of  the  domestic  affections;  but,  above  all,  in  the  prattle  of  little 
children  who  cannot  distinguish  between  the  grandfather  who 
wore  the  blue  and  the  grandfather  who  wore  the  gray. 


A  Plea  J or  the  Southern  Negro.— c.  c.  Smith. 

This  is  ihe  picture  of  the  negro  as  left  by  slavery  ;  physic- 
ally, he  was  impure;  mentally,  a  child;  morally,  a  curiosity; 
socially  and  politically  he  did  not  exist  at  all. 

Suddenly  the  scene  changes:  all  the  old  relations  are  broken 
up.  Freed  from  all  the  restraints  of  the  past  and  cast  upon  his 
own  resource,  just  as  he  is,  with  the  heredity  of  sin  upon  him, 
all  at  once  he  becomes  his  own  master:  he  is  called  upon  to 
govern  himself  and  others;  to  be  his  own  educator;  turned  out 
free — free  to  become  a  child  of  God  or  free  to  become  an  imp 
of  Satan. 

In  this  new  state,  the  first  influence  brought  to  bear  upon  him 
was  that  of  the  "  carpet-bagger."  lie  alienated  him  from  his 
former  master,  used  him  as  a  political  catspaw  for  the  accom- 
plishment of  his  own  corrupl  purposes,  and  then  left  him  to  suf- 
fer the  consequences.  Then  came  the  usurer,  taking  advantage 
of  his  need  and  his  ignorance  to  practise  upon  him  extortion. 
Then  came  the  rum-seller,  taking  advantage  of  his  weakness  to 
debauch  him  with  strong  drink.  Then  came  the  licentious  to 
prey  upon  hi-  impurity.  He  became  an  easy  prey  for  all  of 
Satan's  minions,  lie  losl  all  the  protection  which  slavery  gave 
him  and  had  none  of  the  strength  of  a  true  freeman.  Ignorance 
unrestrained  became  sin;  and  lust  unbridled  became  pollution. 
Everybody's  distrust  of  him  produced  self-distrust;  as  no  one 
believed  in  him,  he  did  not  believe  in  himself;  and  from  that, 
day  to  this  he  has  Blept  like  the  swine,  eaten  like  the  dog,  and 
herded  like  tie-  cattle. 

Yet  for  these  a  plea  may  well  he  made.  In  the  midst  of  this 
disni  imp  flow<  i    ■  row,  bj  contrast  all  the  brighter.     They 

all  love  their  homes  \  tramps  they  are  not,     They   love  their 


24  ROSS'S   SPEAKER. 

country :  aliens  they  are  not.  They  in  their  way  believe  in 
God  :  atheists  they  are  not.  Commit  to  them  a  great  trust  and 
they  will  be  faithful :  traitors  they  are  not.  Hopeful  and 
happy  they  are  in  the  midst  of  squalor  and  wretchedness :  pes- 
simists they  are  not.  They  stand  before  us  with  a  weird,  wild, 
poetic  life,  so  unique  that  our  disgust  is  turned  into  interest  and 
our  pity  to  love.  What  the  negro  may  become  has  been  shown. 
You,  white  man  of  the  South,  know  what  he  was  when  raised 
near  your  person.  No  one  need  tell  you  of  his  right  royal  gal- 
lantry and  politeness,  of  his  unique  service  and  fidelity  even 
unto  death. 

The  plea  is  not  for  money  as  alms  or  for  him  to  control :  this 
would  but  make  him  a  pauper.  It  is  not  that  you  should  go  to 
him  as  a  social  equal ;  for  if  you  do  you  will  lose  your  power  to 
do  him  good:  some  one  must  come  to  him  from  above.  Nor 
is  the  plea  for  more  political  power.  He,  in  his  present  state, 
has  no  more  use  for  it  than  the  little  child  for  the  sharp  knife. 
No  one  can  govern  a  country  until  he  has  learned  to  govern 
himself. 

The  plea  is,  that  he  shall  not  suffer  because  he  is  black  ;  and 
that  he  he  protected  in  his  rights  by  the  law  of  the  land,  by  the 
law  administered  as  well  as  the  law  enacted:  that  he  shall  not 
be  condemned  until  proved  guilty.  But  the  main  plea  is  that 
he  have  a  chance  to  become  a  man  above  the  fury  of  the  mob. 
He  cannot  do  this  for  himself.  The  plea  is  then  for  Christian 
schools  to  train  men  and  women,  teachers  and  preachers,  who 
shall  lead  their  own  from  the  land  of  bondage  to  the  land  of 
promise. 


Individual is?7i  vs.  Centralization.— Hon.  Dudley  g.  Wooten. 

In  peace  and  war,  in  business  and  pleasure,  in  religion  and 
politics,  the  distinguishing  virtue  and  indispensable  attribute  of 
public  and  private  morality,  to  which  every  Anglo-Saxon  renders 
unqualified  homage  and  renown,  are  those  of  loyalty  to  trust  and 
devotion  to  duty. 

Transmitted  to  this  Western  World,  these  same  traits  of  per- 
sonal obligation,  private  honor,  individual  responsibility  and 
inalienable  duty  are  a  necessary  and  vital  part  of  our  social  and 
political  inheritance.  Strike  down  the  sense  of  direct  moral 
obligation,  obliterate  the  salutary  restraints  of  private  and  per- 


INDIVIDUALISM   vs.  CENTRALIZATION.  25 

sonal  honor,  and  you  eliminate  the  most  valuable  and  vigorous 
factor  in  the  manhood,  independence  and  potential  greatness  of 
American  society. 

It  should  be  a  source  of  never-failing  pride  and  satisfaction  to 
us  to  reflect  that,  of  all  the  inhabitants  of  this  Union  of  states, 
those  who  have  heretofore  most  nearly  preserved  in  their  purity 
and  practised  in  their  integrity  the  true  and  undefiled  laws  of 
political,  social  and  individual  morality  and  duty,  were  the  cit- 
izens of  that  vanished  time  and  fast-vanishing  race — the  sons  of 
the  Old  South.  In  the  simple  and  sedate  atmosphere  of  those 
olden  days,  public  virtue  and  private  integrity,  business  trust 
and  personal  honor,  were  inseparable ;  individual  manhood  and 
political  courage  were  convertible  terms;  social  purity  and  a 
decorous  regard  for  the  pious  convictions  and  sacred  teachings  of 
religion  were  accounted  the  attributes  of  true  gentility,  and  a 
uniform  courtesy,  candor,  fidelity  and  valor  were  the  indispen- 
sable requirements  of  social  recognition  and  public  distinction. 
To  those  who  vaunt  the  superior  excellencies  and  practical  ad- 
vantages of  the  New  South,  with  its  increasing  wealth  and  rapid 
conversion  to  the  ideas  of  corporate  control  and  combined  in- 
dustry, it  would  be  both  prudent  and  profitable  to  study  the 
characteristics  of  that  older  civilization  whose  soft  and  tender 
charm,  fading  with  the  receding  years,  is  yet  "like  the  sound  of 
distant  music,  mournful  though  pleasing  to  the  soul."  It  was  an 
age  of  gentle  manners,  but  unyielding  courage;  an  era  of  cere- 
monious intercourse,  but  -of  unbroken  promises  and  inviolable 
faith.  Under  the  influence  of  more  modern  conceptions  of  co- 
operative enterprise  and  incorporated  industry  those  pristine 
virtues  of  personal  responsibility  and  heroic  devotion  to  duty 
are  fast  becoming  unknown  quantities  in  the  social,  business  and 
political  relations  of  our  people. 

And  at  all  these  points  of  social  growth  and  political  friction 
we  find  the  same  struggle  to  maintain  and  to  establish  the  ancient 
ideals  of  individualism  and  personal  freedom  against  the  en- 
croachments of  concentrated  wealth,  peculiar  prerogative  and 
incorporated  privilege. 

If  now  or  henafter  among  the  representative  nations  of  Aryan 
culture  and  progress,  the  innate  and  organic  principles  that  form 
the  inherited  genius  and  fundamental  law  of  the  race  develop- 
ment an-  ignored  and  violated — if  individualism  Buccumbs  to 
centralization,  and  natural  manhood  is  usurped  by  Artificial  citi- 
aouship,  then  in  vain  need  we  strive  to  preserve  the  purity  and 
perpetuate  the  blessings  of  free  democratic  institutions,  either 


26  ROSS'S    SPEAKER. 

here  in  their  chosen  ahode  or  elsewhere  among  the  struggling 
nations  of  the  earth. 

But  if  we  shall  adhere  to  the  ideals  of  our  race  as  they  have 
been  developed  through  the  ages,  if  we  shall  practise  and  en- 
force obedience  to  the  primal  laws  of  our  social  and  political 
health  as  they  have  been  demonstrated  by  centuries  of  cumu- 
lative evolution  and  experience,  if  we  are  true  to  our  faith 
and  firm  in  our  courage,  then  the  ultimate  freedom  and  union 
of  humanity  are  not  a  dreaming  phantasy  of  political  theorists, 
but,  "rising  on  a  wind  of  prophecy,"  we  may  even  indulge  the 
Apocalyptic  vision  of  the  poet: 

"  When  the  war-drums  throb  no  longer,  and  the    battle-flags 

are  furled, — 
In  the  parliament  of  man,  the  federation  of  the  world ; 
There  the  common  sense  of  most  shall  hold  a  fretful  realm  in 

awe, 
And  the  peaceful  earth  shall  slumber,  lapt  in  universal  law." 


A  Court  Scene  in  the  South.— adapted. 

It  was  about  noon  on  a  sultry  day,  that  wore  heavily  on  both 
court  and  jury,  when  the  prosecution  announced  that  it  had 
finished  its  case.  There  was  little  excitement  in  the  audience; 
it  was  evidently  a  clear  case  of  murder,  the  chain  of  evidence 
presented  by  the  State  had  completely  entwined  the  prisoner. 
A  man  had  been  stabbed  ;  had  fallen  dead,  his  hands  clasped 
over  his  wound,  with  not  an  indication  of  defence  on  his  part. 
From  beneath  his  hand,  when  convulsively  opened,  a  knife  had 
fallen,  which,  it  was  shown,  the  prisoner's  wife  had  seized  and 
concealed.  Why  should  she  have  concealed  it  if  her  husband 
was  innocent  of  foul  play  ? 

There  was  marked  lack  of  attention  on  the  part  of  the  jury 
when  the  dusky  prisoner  took  the  stand  in  his  own  behalf.  He 
told  his  story  in  a  straightforward,  simple  manner;  explained 
how  he  had  killed  the  deceased  in  self-defence ;  that  the  knife 
had  fallen  from  the  dead  man's  hand,  and  was  the  one  with 
which  he  himself  had  been  attacked.  It  was  apparent  that 
nothing  he  could  say  would  make  any  impression  on  the  jury; 
they  were  decided  as  to  his  guilt,  so,  with  a  sigh  that  permeated 
the  whole  room,  he  took  his  seat.  While  the  prisoner  was  on 
the  stand,  an  elderly  gentleman  with  iron-gray  hair,  and  clad  in 


A  COURT   SCENE   IN   THE   SOUTH.  27 

a  gray  suit,  entered  the  room  and  stood  silently  by  the  door.  At 
the  close  of  the  prisoner's  plea,  the  solicitor  arose  and  in  a  few 
cold  words  stated  his  case:  The  man  had  stabbed  another  wan- 
tonly. If  the  knife  was  the  property  of  the  deceased,  why  was 
it  not  produced  in  court  ?  The  prisoner's  wife  had  picked  it 
up.  With  this  brief  summary,  lie  passed  the  prisoner's  life  into 
the  hands  of  the  jury.  The  judge  had  arisen,  and  in  solemn 
style  was  saying :  "  Mr.  Foreman,  and  gentlemen  of  the  Jury," 
when  suddenly  from  the  old  gentleman  in  gray  came  the  sharp 
but  decisive  words :  "  If  it  please  your  llonor,  the  prisoner  is 
entitled  to  the  closing  argument,  and,  in  the  absence  of  other 
counsel,  I  beg  you  will  allow  me  to  speak  for  the  defence." 
"  Mr.  Clerk,"  said  the  Court,  "  mark  General  Robert  Thomas 
for  the  defence."  The  court  room,  which  before  had  been  astir 
with  the  murmur  of  those  present,  was  now  deathly  still.  Gen- 
eral Thomas  for  the  defence  !  What  could  it  all  mean  ?  Had 
any  new  evidence  been  discovered?  Only  the  old  man,  grim, 
gray,  and  majestically  defiant,  stood  between  the  prisoner  and 
the  gallows.  After  standing  a  moment  and  gazing  about  the 
court  room  with  an  air  of  disgust,  he  said  with  quick  but  quiet 
energy  :  "  The  knife  that  was  found  by  the  dead  man's  side  was 
his  own.  He  had  drawn  it  before  he  was  stabbed.  Ben 
Thomas  is  a  brave  man;  a  strong  man;  he  would  never  have 
used  a  weapon,  if  his  antagonist  had  been  unarmed.  A  brave  man 
who  is  full  of  strength  never  draws  a  weapon  to  repel  a  simple 
attack.  The  defendant  drew  his  knife  when  he  saw  a  knife  in 
the  hand  of  his  foe,  not  from  fear,  but  to  equalize  the  combat. 
Why  do  I  say  he  was  brave?  Every  man  upon  this  jury  shoul- 
dered his  musket,  during  the  war.  Some  of  you  were  perhaps 
.it  Gettysburg;  I  was  there  too."  [t  was  evident  that  the  General 
had  aroused  a  dcepfelt  interest  by  his  allusion  to  the  old  days 
when  all  the  men  for  miles  about  entered   the   army,  and   many 

had    served    under    the   old   General,  whose   war   r< rd  was   a 

household  legend.  "  I  and  the  only  brother  that  God  ever  gave 
me.   1  well  remember  that  fight   The  enemy  met  our  onslaught 

with  a  courage  and  gril  that  could  not  be  shaken.  Line  after 
line  melted  away,  and  at  last  came  Pickett's  charge. 

"Yon  know  the  result,     Oul  of  that  vortex  of  flame  and  that 
storm   "f  lead  and  iron  a  handful  drifted  back.     From  one  to 

another  ;i  man  of  black  skin  was  seen  to  run.  On,  mi  lie  went  ; 
gone  "lie  moment  and  in  Bight  the  next,  on,  up  to  the  flaming 
cannon  themselves.  There  he  stooped  and  lifted  a  form  from 
the  ground;  and  then,  stumbling,  staggering  under  his  load, 


28  ROSS'S   SPEAKER. 

made  his  way  back  across  that  field  of  death,  until,  meeting  him 
halfway,  I  took  the  burden  myself  from  the  hero  and  bore  it 
myself  to  safety.  That  burden  was  the  senseless  form  of  my 
brother  " — here  the  General  paused,  and  walking  rapidly  towards 
the  prisoner,  he  raised  his  arm  on  high,  and  his  voice  rang  out 
like  a  trumpet, — "gashed  and  bleeding  and  mangled,  but  alive, 
thank  God  !  And  the  man  who  bore  him  out,  who  brought  him 
to  me  in  his  arms  as  a  mother  would  a  sick  child,  himself  torn 
by  a  fragment  of  a  shell  until  the  great  heart  was  almost  drop- 
ping from  his  breast,  that  man,  my  friends,  sits  here  accused 
of  murder."  To  add  emphasis  to  his  plea,  he  tore  open  the 
prisoner's  shirt  and  laid  bare  his  breast  on  which  were  the  scars 
of  that  terrible  day.  "  Look  !  "  he  cried,  "  and  bless  the  sight, 
for  that  scar  was  won  by  a  slave  in  an  hour  that  tried  the  cour- 
age of  free  men  and  put  to  its  highest  test  the  best  manhood  of 
the  South.  No  man  who  won  such  wounds  could  thrust  a  knife 
into  an  unarmed  assailant.  I  have  come  seventy  miles  in  my 
old  age  to  say  this." 

The  jury  did  not  even  retire,  but  instantly  returned  a  verdict 
of  "  Not  guilty  !  "  Some  may  say  that  this  was  contrary  to  the 
evidence,  but  if  one  could  judge  from  the  appearance  of  the 
spectators,  as  they  left  the  court-house,  they  were  content. 
Even  the  apparently  cold-hearted  solicitor,  who  bore  a  scar  on 
his  forehead  that  dated  back  to  the  old  days  when  North  and 
South  were  estranged,  received  the  verdict  with  a  smile  that 
indicated  his  approval. 

* 

The  Negro  Vote  in  the  South—  kenry w.Grady. 

The  question  is  asked  repeatedly,  "  "When  will  the  black  man 
in  the  South  cast  a  free  ballot  ?  When  will  he  have  the  civil 
rights  that  are  his  ?  " 

When  will  the  black  cast  a  free  ballot  ?  When  ignorance 
anywhere  is  not  dominated  by  the  will  of  the  intelligent;  when 
the  laborer  anywhere  casts  a  ballot  unhindered  by  his  boss; 
when  the  strong  and  the  steadfast  do  not  everywhere  control 
the  suffrage  of  the  weak  and  the  shiftless.  Then,  but  not  till 
then,  will  the  ballot  of  the  negro  be  free. 

The  white  people  of  the  South  are  banded  together  not  in 
race  prejudice  against  the  blacks,  not  in  sectional  estrangement, 
not  in  the  desire  of  political  dominion,  but  in  a  deep  and  abid- 
ing necessitv.  Here  is  this  vast  ignorant  and  venal  vote—clan- 
nish,  credulous,  impulsive  and   passionate — tempted  by  every 


THE   NEGRO   TOTE   IN   THE   SOUTH.  29 

art  of  the  demagogue,  but  insensible  to  the  appeal  of  the  states- 
man. Its  credulity  is  imposed  upon,  its  patience  is  inflamed, 
its  cupidity  is  aroused,  its  impulses  are  misdirected,  and  even 
its  superstitions  made  to  play  their  part  in  a  campaign  in  which 
every  interest  of  society  is  jeopardized  and  every  approach  to 
the  ballot  box  is  debauched.  It  is  against  such  campaigns — the 
folly  and  bitterness  of  which  every  Southern  community  has 
drunk  deeply — that  the  white  people  of  the  South  are  banded 
together.  Just  as  you  in  New  York  state  would  be  banded  if 
300,000  voters,  not  one  in  a  hundred  able  to  read  his  own  bal- 
lot, unified  by  a  race  instinct,  cherishing  against  you  the  memory 
of  a  hundred  years  of  slavery,  taught  by  your  late  conquerors 
to  hate  and  distrust  you,  had  already  travestied  legislation  from 
your  state  capitol,  and  in  every  species  of  folly  had  wasted  your 
substance  and  exhausted  your  credit.  The  negro  can  never 
control  in  the  South,  and  it  would  be  well  if  partisans  in  the 
North  would  understand  this.  If  there  is  any  human  force 
that  cannot  be  withstood  it  is  the  power  of  the  banded  intelli- 
gence and  responsibility  of  a  free  community.  Against  this 
numbers  and  corruption  cannot  prevail.  It  cannot  be  forbidden 
in  the  law  or  divorced  in  force.  It  is  the  inalienable  right  of 
every  free  community  and  the  just  and  righteous  safeguard 
against  an  ignorant  and  corrupt  suffrage.  It  is  on  this  that  we 
rely  in  the  South,  not  on  the  cowardly  meance  of  mask  or  shot- 
gun, but  upon  the  peaceful  majesty  of  intelligence  and  respon- 
sibility, massed  and  uniiied  for  the  protection  of  its  homes  and 
the  preservation  of  its  liberties.  This  is  our  reliance  and  our 
hope,  and  against  it  all  the  powers  of  the  earth  cannot  prevail. 
You  may  pass  vour  fon-c  bills,  but  they  will  not  avail.  You 
may  surrender  your  own  liberties  to  a  Federal  election  law;  you 
may  invite  Federal  interference  with  the  New  England  town- 
meeting,  that  has  stood  for  a  hundred  years  as  the  guarantee  of 
local  government  in  America;  that  old  state  which  holds  in  its 
charter  the  boast  that  it  is  a  "  free  and  independent  common- 
wealth'1 may  surrender  its  own  political  machinery  to  a  Federal 
government  which  it  helped  to  create,  but  never  will  a  single 
state,  North  or  South,  be  again  delivered  to  the  control  of  an 
ignorant  and  inferior  race. 

We  irrested  our  state  government  from  negro  snpremacy 
when  the  Federal  drumbeal  rolled  closer  to  the  ballol  l">\  and 
when  Federal  bayonets  hedged  it  aboul  closer  than  will  ever 
again  be  permitted  in  this  free  community.  Bui  it'  Federal 
cannon   thundered    in    every    vuting    district    of   the   South    wo 


30  ROSS'S  SPEAKER. 

■would  still  find  in  the  mercy  of  God  the  means  ?md  the  courage 
to  prevent  its  rc-establishment. 


The  Future  of  the  Southern  Negro. -booker  t.  Washington. 

No  race  that  is  so  largely  ignorant  and  so  recently  out  of 
slavery  could,  perhaps,  show  a  better  record  in  the  percentage 
of  crimes  committed  than  the  negroes  in  the  South  ;  and  yet  we 
must  face  the  plain  fact  that  there  is  too  much  crime  among 
them.  A  large  percentage  of  the  crimes  grow  out  of  the  idle- 
ness of  our  young  negro  men  and  women.  It  is  for  this  reason 
that  I  have  tried  to  insist  that  some  industry  be  taught  in  con- 
nection with  their  course  of  literary  training. 

No  race  has  ever  gotten  upon  its  feet  without  discouragements 
and  struggles.  The  negro,  let  me  add,  has  among  many  of  the 
Southern  whites  as  good  friends  as  he  has  anywhere  m  the  world. 
With  the  best  white  people  and  the  best  black  people  standing 
together  in  favor  of  law  and  order  and  justice,  I  believe  that  the 
safety  and  happiness  of  both  races  will  be  made  secure. 

We  are  one  in  this  country.  When  one  race  is  strong  the 
other  is  strong ;  when  one  is  weak  the  other  is  weak.  There  is 
no  power  that  can  separate  our  destiny.  Unjust  laws  and  cus- 
toms that  exist  in  many  places  injure  the  white  man  and  incon- 
venience the  negro.  No  race  can  wrong  another  race  simply 
because  it  has  the  power  to  do  so  without  being  permanently 
injured  in  its  own  morals.  If  a  white  man  steals  a  negro's  bal- 
lot it  is  the  white  man  who  is  permanently  injured.  Physical 
death  comes  to  one  negro  lynched  in  a  count}',  but  death  of 
morals  comes  to  those  responsible  for  the  lynching. 

In  the  economy  of  God  there  is  but  one  standard  by  which  an 
individual  can  succeed  ;  there  is  but  one  for  a  race.  This  coun- 
try expects  that  every  race  shall  measure  itself  by  the  American 
standard.  During  the  next  half  century  and  more  the  negro  must 
continue  passing  through  the  severe  American  crucible.  He  is 
to  be  tested  in  his  patience,  his  forbearance,  his  perseverance, 
his  power  to  endure  wrong — to  withstand  temptations,  to  econ- 
omize, to  acquire  and  use  skill — his  ability  to  compete,  to  suc- 
ceed in  commerce,  to  disregard  the  superficial  for  the  real,  the 
appearance  for  the  substance,  to  be  great  and  yet  small,  learned 
and  yet  simple,  high  and  yet  the  servant  of  all.  This,  this  is 
thb  passport  to  all  that  is  best  in  the  life  of  our  Republic,  and 
the  negro  must  possess  it  or  be  barred  out. 


FRATERNALISM  vs.  SECTIONALISM.  31 


Fraternalism  vs.  Sectionalism.— Hon.  s.  w.  t.  Lanham,  of  Texas. 

I  am  one  of  those  who  rejoice  in  the  belief  that  the  very 
flower  and  chivalry  of  American  manhood  were  eminently  rep- 
resented in  the  soldiery  of  the  war  between  the  states,  and  I  stand 
chcerfnl  to  accord  the  utmost  credit  to  the  virtue,  the  courage, 
and  the  patriotism  of  every  honest  actor  in  that  contest,  whether 
he  worthily  wore  the  uniform  and  maintained  the  flag  of  the  one 
side  or  the  other. 

In  this  sentiment  I  am  joined  by  the  men  who  fought  for  the 
Confederacy  and  have  survived  the  clash  of  arms.  I  believe  that 
it  is  reciprocated  by  the  vast  body  of  the  old  soldiers  in  the 
North.  All  that  is  needed  to  accomplish  the  utter  destruction 
of  sectionalism,  so  far  as  it  may  have  arisen  on  account  of  the 
war,  is  a  correct  understanding  of  each  other  and  a  concert  of 
earnest  action.  To  whatever  political  organization  we  may  be- 
long, how  widely  soever  we  may  separate  in  other  respects,  it  is 
not  and  ought  not  to  be  inconsistent  with  our  conviction  of  loy- 
altv  to  legitimate  party  demands  and  devotion  to  our  country's 
welfare,  to  combine  our  influence  and  endeavors  to  the  upbuilding 
of  citizen  brotherhood  and  the  downfall  of  sectional  estrange- 
ment and  hostility.  Whoever  in  this  day  shall  be  tempted  by 
selfish  ambition,  or  other  motive,  to  foster  and  encourage  sec- 
tional feelings,  is  unworthy  of  consideration  by  his  party  asso- 
ciates, and  should  have  left  upon  him  a  brand  of  excommunica- 
tion from  the  order  of  American  patriotism. 

Mr.  Chairman,  when  from  the  hilltop  of  the  present,  we 
overlook  the  plains  of  the  next  century  ;  when  we  survey  our 
national  magnificence  of  to-day,  and  contemplate  the  mighty 
possibilities  of  tin;  future;  when  we  reflect  how  much  has  been 
accomplished  in  building  up  the  waste  places  and  healing  the 
wounds  made  by  the  war;  when  we  consider  our  common  origin 
and  the  heritage  left  us  by  our  common  sires;  when  we  realize 
the  homogeneity  of  our  ancestry  and  cherish  together  the 
memory  of  their  immortal  deeds;  when  we  jointly  admire  the 
foundations  they  laid  for  popular  government  and  behold  with 
pride  the  Btately  Btructure  of  liberty  and  civilization  erected 
thereon;  when  we  recognize  our  national  kinship  and  anticipate 
the  splendid  future  products  of  our  patriotic  ami  CO-operative 
energies;  when  we  observe  how  necessary  we  all  an;  to  each 
other— surely,  when  we  appreciate  all  these  things,  there  i-  no 
room  for  individual  resentment  or  Bectional  antagonism,  but,  on 


32  ROSS'S   SPEAKER. 

the  contrary,  there  is  every  inducement  for  the  beneficent  reign 
of  a  cordial  American  fellowship. 

Indulge  me,  in  conclusion,  to  say  that  I  wish  I  could  incite 
the  old  soldiers  throughout  the  land  to  "  the  victories  of  peace ;  " 
to  wage  uncompromising  hostility  against  every  species  of  unjust 
proscription  of  their  fellow  men  ;  to  strike  to  the  death  the  vice 
of  sectionalism  ;  to  tear  down  the  battlements  of  monopoly  ;  to 
crush  out  the  evils  of  class  legislation  ;  to  break  the  manacles  of 
industrial  captivity  and  commercial  subjugation  ;  to  shatter  the 
bolts  which  lock  up  from  the  channels  of  trade  the  necessary 
supply  of  monetary  circulation  ;  to  batter  down  the  prison  walls 
which  restrain  any  of  the  agencies  and  factors  of  our  national 
growth  and  prosperity,  and  to  fully  enlarge  all  the  elements 
that  logically  combine  to  make  this  the  best  government  on  the 
face  of  the  earth.     To  this  end, 

God  speed  the  day  when  from  North  and  South,  all 
Shall  meet  as  one — 
At  the  glad  welcome  of  their  country's  call. 


A    United  CWw^r?/. -Senator  George  F.  Hoar. 

If  cordial  friendship  can  ever  exist  between  two  communi- 
ties, it  should  exist  between  Massachusetts  and  South  Carolina. 
They  were  alike  in  the  circumstances  of  their  origin.  The  Eng- 
lish Pilgrims  and  Puritans  founded  Massachusetts,  Scotch  Pres- 
byterians founded  Carolina,  to  be  followed  soon  after  by  the 
French  exiles  fleeing  from  the  same  oppression. 

If  there  be  a  single  lesson  which  the  people  of  this  country 
have  learned  from  their  wonderful  and  crowded  history,  it  is 
that  the  North  and  South  are  indispensable  to  each  other.  They 
are  the  blades  of  mighty  shears,  worthless  apart,  but,  when 
bound  by  indissoluble  union,  powerful,  irresistible,  and  terrible 
as  the  shears  of  Fate. 

^Yhatever  estrangement  may  have  existed  in  the  past,  or  may 
linger  among  us  now,  is  born  of  ignorance  and  will  be  dis- 
pelled by  knowledge.  The  American  people  have  learned  to 
know,  as  never  before,  the  quality  of  Southern  stock  and  to 
value  its  noble  contribution  to  the  American  character ;  its 
courage  in  war,  its  attachment  to  home  and  state ;  its  love  of 
rural  life,  its  capacity  for  great  affection  and  generous  emotion  ; 
its  aptness  for  command ;  above   all,  its   constancy,  that  virtue 


NATIONAL   UNITY.  33 

above  all  virtues,  without  which  no  people  can  long   be   either 
great  or  free. 

The  time  has  come  when  Americans — North,  South,  East,  and 
"West — may  discuss  any  question  of  public  interest  in  a  friendly 
and  quiet  spirit,  each  understanding  the  other,  each  striving  to 
help  the  other  as  men  who  are  bearing  a  common  burden  and 
looking  forward  with  a  common  hope.  On  the  whole,  we  are 
advancing  quite  as  rapidly  as  could  be  expected  to  the  time 
when  all  the  different  races  of  men  will  live  together  on  Ameri- 
can soil  in  honor  and  in  peace,  every  man  enjoying  his  just 
right  wherever  the  American  flag  floats,  where  the  influence  of 
intelligence,  of  courage,  of  energy  inspired  by  a  lofty  patriotism 
and  a  Christian  love,  will  have  its  full  and  legitimate  effect,  not 
through  disorder,  or  force,  or  lawlessness,  but  under  the  silent 
and  sure  law  by  which  always  the  superior  leads  and  the  inferior 
follow. 


National  Uniiy.—'Wu.  l.  prathkr, 

President  of  the  University  of  Texas. 

The  idea  of  national  unity  is  as  yet  young.  We  have  been 
geographically  a  nation,  territorially  a  nation,  governmentally  a 
nation,  ethically  a  nation — for  a  century.  But  the  development 
of  a  true  national  unity  in  the  fullest  sense  of  the  term  is  one 
of  the  groat  problems  for  the  education  of  the  future — a  problem 
whose  significance  and  importance  we  must  be  fully  awake  to. 

Think  of  the  intellectual  triumphs  which  await  a  nation  of 
eightv  million  souls,  enjoying  opportunities  of  culture  that  are 
accessible  to  all,  from  the  meanest  to  the  highest,  untrammeled 
by  artificial  social  distinctions,  possessing  a  quickness  of  intel- 
lect and  adaptability  that  goes  hand  in  hand  with  solid  and 
sturdv  moral  character,  to  form  the  best  foundation  for  the  best 
kind  of  intellectual  culture;  and  possessing  those  elements 
and  characteristics  in  a  measure  and  degree  unequalled  among 
the  nations  of  1 1 » + -  world.  This  is  our  opportunity,  and  if  we 
fail  to  realize  it,  we  are  failing  of  a  full  conception  of  our 
national  duty. 

One  of  tin;  happiest  results  which  the  intercommunication  of 
education  lias  wrought  is  the  larger  ability  to  discuss  philo- 
sophically, wisely,  and  with  less  passion  and  prejudice,  the  great 
questions  affecting  US  as  a  nation    and    parts  <>(  the  same  nation. 


34  ROSS'S  SPEAKER. 

We  should  never  forget  that  we  are  brothers,  members  of  the 
same  household  ;  that  this  nation  is  a  family  of  states  ;  and  that 
whatever  affects  favorably  or  unfavorably  the  welfare  of  one, 
affects  the  whole  nation.  We  must  rise  to  a  true  conception  of 
this  idea  if  we  would  in  the  future  avoid  sectionalism,  and  secure 
the  welfare  of  the  whole  people  rather  than  the  welfare  of  a 
particular  section.  Truth  and  frankness  should  characterize  our 
dealings  with  each  other  as  individuals,  as  states,  and  as  a  whole 
people.  One  of  the  most  potent  forces  now  contributing  to  the 
development  of  such  a  national  sympathy  is  the  State  Univer- 
sity. 

If  it  be  true  that "  the  arrival  of  democracy  is  the  fact  of  our 
time,  which  overshadows  all  other  facts,"  the  very  incarnation 
of  true  democracy  is  found  in  the  modern  State  University.  A 
university  for  the  people  without  distinctions  of  rank  is  the 
regenerating  thought  of  the  new  world.  In  the  glorious  prog- 
ress of  American  manhood  and  womanhood,  universities  are 
the  torchbearers  of  American  civilization.  It  is  a  serious  error 
on  the  part  of  our  politicans  to  charge  that  the  great  teachers 
and  thinkers  of  our  universities  are  mere  theorists.  No  wiser 
step  has  been  taken  by  our  rulers  than  when  they  utilized  in 
the  affairs  of  government  the  training,  the  learning,  and  the 
wisdom  of  the  scholars  of  this  nation.  They  brought  to  their 
aid  the  lessons  of  all  history,  and  bravely  applied  them  to  the 
solution  of  new  and  perplexing  problems,  thereby  enriching  the 
achievements  of  American  statesmanship.  To  these  great  cen- 
tres of  learning,  planted  in  every  state  of  this  rapidly  expanding 
union,  as  well  as  to  our  common  schools,  we  must  look  in  the 
future  for  that  stalwart  and  vitalizing  American  sentiment  which 
shall  not  only  withstand,  but  shall  quickly  transform  and  assim- 
ilate, the  uninstrncted  foreign  population  now  flocking  to  our 
shores.  Our  safety  as  a  people  demands  a  wise  and  vigorous 
effort  to  educate  the  masses  to  an  intelligent  appreciation  of  the 
blessings  which  we  as  freemen  enjoy.  The  educational  forces 
of  this  country  are  doing  a  great  work  towards  breaking  down 
sectionalism,  allaying  party  strife  and  promoting  the  peace,  pros- 
perity and  unity  of  this  nation. 

It  is  my  clear  conviction  that  it  would  be  wise  for  the 
American  people  to  cease  establishing  new  colleges  and  univer- 
sities, and  to  concentrate  their  efforts  in  strengthening  those 
already  founded,  thereby  increasing  their  power  and  efficiency. 
The  State  University  at  the  head  of  the  state  system  of  educa- 
tion is  an  evolution  of  the  best  western  thought,  and  the  noblest 


EXPAND  AT   HOME  AND   NOT   IN   THE  PHILIPPINES.    35 

civic  achievement  of  the  commonwealth.  There  should  be  the 
closest  and  most  harmonious  relation  between  the  university 
and  all  the  educational  agencies  of  the  state.  As  the  university 
grows,  its  magnetic  life  should  pervade  every  district  school, 
and  be  an  inspiration  and  blessing  to  all  good  learning.  The 
system  of  elementary  and  secondary  education  should  culminate 
in  the  university. 

If  the  newer  universities,  thus  developed  from  the  expanding 
intellectual  life  of  our  people,  are  tied  in  bonds  of  closest  sym- 
pathy and  fraternal  co-operation  to  the  older  universities  already 
established,  and  so  unite  with  them  to  maintain  the  highest 
ideals  of  American  life  and  American  thought,  the  time  is  not 
far  distant  when  American  culture  shall  be  a  national  culture, 
exerting  on  the  nations  of  the  earth  an  influence,  as  wide  and 
potent  as  was  that  of  Greece  and  Rome,  in  uplifting  and  en- 
dsditening  the  world. 


Expand  at  Home  and  Not  in  the  Philippines. 

D.  A.  DkArmond,  op  Missouri. 

It  is  argued  that  if  we  are  to  be  the  leading  nation  of  the 
Anglo-Saxon  race,  we  must  undertake  the  task  of  governing 
the  Filipinos.  Sir,  our  tasks  are  here.  Our  duty  is  to  our  own 
people.  When  we  have  builded  a  greater  republic  here,  when 
we  have  advanced  in  the  development  of  our  resources,  when  we 
have  furnished  the  steady  light  for  the  guidance  of  the  world, 
then  we  shall  have  performed  well  our  part  in  history.  Here  is 
our  theatre.  Here  Providence  has  cast  our  lot.  Here  is  the 
Bcene  of  our  duty.  Here  is  the  field  of  the  glorious  achieve- 
ments of  our  fathers.  Here  is  the  arena  for  our  children.  Why 
seek  to  enlarge  it  in  the  Old  World  ?  Why  seek  to  add  to  it 
that  which  can  never  be  harmonized  with  it? 

Some  gentlemen  suggest  that  the.  Filipinos  shall  not  onne  in 
as  citi/.ens  of  the  United  States.  What,  then,  do  you  want  with 
them  ?  What  is  to  be  their  relation  to  the  people  of  this  coun- 
try, if  they  are  not  to  become  citizens  of  the  United  States?  I 
do  not  wish  them  to  he  citizens  of  the  United  States.  I  do  not 
believe  in  lowering  the  level  of  citizenship  so  that  they  can 
reach  it.  I  do  not  believe  in  adding  to  the  bulk  of  illiteracy,  of 
venality,  of  corruption,  that  which  is  to  come  in  by  the  incor- 
poration of  the  Filipinos. 

But  do  you  say,  "Let  us  hold  them?"     What  a  magnificent 


36  ROSS'S   SPEAKER. 

spectacle  that  would  be  to  the  rest  of  the  world !  What  a  trav- 
esty upon  republicanism  for  the  giant  Republic,  the  exemplar 
Republic,  the  Republic  in  the  van,  to  go  into  the  business  of 
holding  colonies  and  subduing  and  governing  people  as  the 
monarchies,  absolute  and  despicable,  do ! 

What  encouragement  could  we  thus  afford  to  struggling  hu- 
manity the  world  over?  How  many  thousands,  aye,  how  many 
millions  of  people,  have  looked  across  the  dark  scenes  of  the 
present,  hoping  to  see  the  brighter  light  of  the  future — hoping 
to  see  the  gleam  of  the  star  of  liberty  blazing  in  the  great 
Republic  of  America,  in  the  western  world,  and  trusting  that 
thence  the  inspiration  would  come,  teaching  that  man  can  gov- 
ern himself,  and  inviting  the  brave,  the  resolute,  the  true,  the 
generous,  to  escape  from  onerous  conditions  existing  and  par- 
take of  that  liberty  which  we  Americans  have  long  enjoyed. 

What  message  shall  we  send  out  to  those  people  if,  instead  of 
continuing  the  champion  of  personal  liberty,  we  now  turn  to  be 
the  oppressor?  How  shall  we  hope  to  maintain  a  Government 
such  as  we  have  so  long  boasted  of — a  Government  of  freemen  by 
freemen — if  the  Government  itself  is  to  engage  in  the  business 
of  subjugating  and  oppressing  the  Filipinos,  lately  our  allies,  in 
another  hemisphere?  How  shall  we  hope,  after  having  taken 
up  the  business  of  protecting  the  oppressed  and  affording  an 
asylum  to  the  weak  and  suffering  throughout  the  whole  world, 
to  escape  condemnation,  if  in  turn,  we,  ourselves,  adopt  a  pol- 
icy of  subjugation  and  force  rule  ? 

Let  us  not  stumble  alone:  blindfolded  until  the  fact  that  we 
never  have  parted  with  any  territory  once  regarded  as  our  own 
may  be  used  as  an  argument  and  a  sentiment  against  doing  what 
is  certain,  if  we  persist  in  this  course  of  imperialism,  soon  to  be 
proved  necessary  for  our  own  welfare — to  get  away  from  the 
Orient  and  devote  our  energies  to  our  own  country  and  hemi- 
sphere, to  the  protection  and  the  upbuilding  of  our  own  institu- 
tions at  home. 


Tlte  Independent  Voter.— Lko  n.  Levi. 

In  every  government  parties  are  inevitable,  if  not  necessary. 
In  our  government  they  are  necessary  to  the  perpetuity  of  the 
government  itself.  Our  Constitution  was  a  compromise ;  the 
machinery  of  our  government  was  adopted  in  accordance  with 
that  compromise.     The  great  struggle   between  the  Federalists 


THE   INDEPENDENT   VOTER.  37 

and  Republicans  was  relegated  to  posterity,  and  the  contest  still 
continues  and  will  continue  until  the  end. 

The  logical  issue  of  a  strong  and  centralized  government  is 
illustrated  in  the  despotism  of  Bismarck  and  the  Czar.  The 
logical  issue  of  pure  democracy  was  reached  in  the  French  revo- 
lution and  the  commune.  In  England  and  the  United  States 
the  advocates  of  either  principles  are  nearly  evenly  matched, 
and  the  conservatism  resulting  gives  us  the  two  best  govern, 
nients  of  modern  times.  Nothing  in  our  present  condition 
should  excite  our  exultation  so  much  as  the  fact  that  the  two 
great  American  parties  are  of  almost  equal  number,  ability  and 
power.  It  insures  conservatism  and  honesty  in  public  affairs, 
and  leaves  the  balance  of  power  where  it  should  be  lodged — 
with  the  independent  voter.  The  independent  voter  is  the 
safety  valve  of  the  republic.  He  is  the  most  responsible,  most 
intelligent,  the  bravest  of  our  citizens.  He  is,  above  all  others, 
the  patriot  whose  patriotism  is  neither  an  incident  to  nor  a 
means  of  self-preservation. 

"  It  is  base  abandonment  of  reason  to  resign  the  right  of 
thought."  Such  disaffection  purifies  and  strengthens  a  party. 
It  deposes  inefficient  and  corrupt  leaders.  It  is  the  sword  of 
Damocles  that  is  constantly  suspended  over  the  head  of  the 
demagogue.  Were  there  no  such  independence,  party  leaders 
would  become  tyrants,  and  the  government  would  be  at  the 
mercy  of  the  man  who  best  succeeded  in  whipping  or  bribing 
votes  to  the  polls.  Our  government  was  born  of  the  individu- 
ality and  independence  of  the  colonists.  They  remained  loyal 
to  the  mother  country  until  repeated  and  long-continued  abuses 
made  loyalty  svnoiivmoiis  with  the  surrender  of  manhood. 
Then  leaped  into  the  full  vigor  of  revolution  the  courageous 
spirit  of  liberty  and  independence.  During  eight  years  of  pri- 
vation and  danger,  that  are  but  half  told  when  the  power  of  the 
historian  is  exhausted,  they  struggled  with  unabated  courage. 
The  God  of  justice  was  with  them;  and  lo!  an  infant  nation 
sprung  into  life,  taint,  impoverished  and  weak,  but  rich  in  the 
heritage  of  freedom  bequeathed  by  the  countless  martyrs  of  the 
past. 

The  independence  of  the  Americans  was  the  progenitor  and 

birthright  of  the  nation.  Believe  me,  my  friends,  we  cannot 
surrender  the  basis  of  out  greal  ness  without  destroying  the  imac- 
nificent  superstructure.  From  independence  we  were  born  ;  by  it 
we  have  grown  great;  through  it,  and  only  through  indepen- 
dence ''in  we  endure.      I  recognize  in  our  country  the  fruition 


38  ROSS'S   SPEAKER. 

of  all  the  hopes  and  prayers  that  have  mingled  with  the  martyr's 
tears  since  the  morning  of  time.  The  seed  of  freedom  that 
could  not  germinate  in  the  eastern  hemisphere,  in  the  virgin  soil 
of  a  new  continent  sprung  into  a  magnificent  tree  that  was  rooted 
on  Independence  day,  and  destined,  let  us  trust,  to  flourish  for 
all  time.  It  is  because  of  the  blessings  our  country  is  able  to 
afford  that  I  would  name  and  guard  against  the  dangers  that 
threaten  her  purity,  power  and  stability.  The  parasite  is  not 
less  dangerous  because  we  refuse  to  recognize  its  existence. 

The  very  genius  of  this  occasion  is  loyalty  to  our  country's 
flag,  which  we  thus  annually  renew  with  freshened  enthusiasm. 
It  is  well  that  the  heart  should  be  stirred  by  national  anthems 
and  plaudits  for  the  national  banner,  but  more  enduring  in  sub- 
stance and  value  than  anthems  and  hosannas  is  that  patriotism 
that  perennially  burns  and  that  should  on  such  occasions  burst 
into  a  flame  of  resolve  to  perpetuate  and  practise  the  revolu- 
tionary slogan,  "  Independence  now  and  forever." 


Our  Policy  Toward  Porto  Rico.—s.  w.  t.  lanham,  op  Texas. 

The  time  has  come  when,  in  Porto  Rico  at  least,  it  would 
seem  that  in  some  degree  civil  government  is  to  be  substituted 
for  military  rule.  It  is  not  to  be  forgotten  that  the  people  of 
this  island  greeted  our  approach  and  welcomed  American  sov- 
ereignty, and  the  assurances  we  then  gave  them  ought  to  be 
constantly  kept  in  mind  and  faithfully  executed.  They  have 
not  engaged  in  any  insurrection  against  our  authority  since  it 
was  first  asserted.  No  insurgency  on  their  part  has  menaced 
our  peace,  nor  taken  the  lives  of  our  soldiery.  Our  flag  has 
floated  serenely  over  the  Porto  Ricans.  That  they  will  cheer- 
fully acquiesce  in  any  just  dominion  we  may  establish,  and 
under  proper  treatment  from  us  will  continue  to  rejoice  in  the 
transfer  of  their  allegiance  from  Spain  to  the  United  States  and 
their  permanent  connection  with  our  great  Union,  it  seems 
reasonable  to  assume.  How  shall  we  demean  ourselves  toward 
them,  and  what  shall  we  do  with  them  ?  It  is  recorded  that 
when  Alexander  invaded  India  and  captured  Porus,  a  rich  and 
powerful  king,  he  inquired  of  his  captive  how  he  thought  he 
ought  to  be  treated.  "  Like  a  king,"  was  the  proud  answer 
made  to  the  conqueror's  question  ;  and  it  is  said  that  Alexander 
give  him  back  his  kingdom,  to  be  held,  however,  subject  to  the 


EDUCATION   AND   CHARACTER.  59 

Macedonian  crown.  How  shall  wc  treat  the  Porto  Ricans,  and 
what  treatment  have  they  the  right  to  expect  at  our  hands  ? 
Are  they  less  deserving  than  was  Porus,  the  Indian  king  ?  Are 
we  less  magnanimous  than  was  the  ancient  Grecian  warrior  ?  Is 
there  with  us  more  of  barbarism  and  less  of  human  toleration 
in  the  closing  year  of  the  nineteenth  century  than  there  was 
with  the  heathen  in  327  B.  C.  ?  Is  the  spirit  of  American  greed 
stronger  than  was  the  rapacity  of  Grecian  conquest?  Is  Punic 
faith  a  trait  of  American  character  ?  We  must  either  treat  this 
people  like  Americans,  or  as  an  alien  race  unworthy  of  sharing 
the  hlcssings  of  our  Government  and  beyond  the  pale  of  our 
Constitution. 

As  a  patriotic  American,  I  would  not  have  my  country  shirk 
any  proper  responsibility  or  evade  any  duty  it  owes  to  itself  or 
to  those  whom  the  fortunes  of  war  have  placed  within  its  care 
and  keeping  and  beneath  its  shield  and  protection.  I  earnestly 
desire  that  it  should  suitably  discharge  every  honorable  obliga- 
tion resting  upon  it  and  mete  out  entire  justice,  both  to  its  per- 
fect and  inchoate  citizens.  It  cannot  afford  to  do  wrong.  Its 
conscience  must  be  preserved  and  its  good  name  and  national 
character  and  plighted  faith  must  be  maintained.  I  earnestly 
pray  that  it  may  be  equal  to  every  present  and  future  emer- 
gency;  that  it  may  hold  fast  to  the  faith  of  the  fathers,  and 
that  every  "  blessing  of  liberty  "  may  continue  to  abide  with  us 
and  be  transmitted  unimpaired  to  those  who  shall  come  after  us. 


Education  and  Character.- V) 'u.  l.  Pr&thbb. 

Km  cation  is  the  most  important  subject  that  can  engage  the 
attention  of  young  men  and  women.  When  Aristotle  was 
as!  ed  in  what  way  the  educated  differed  from  the  uneducated, 
he  replied  :    "  As  the  livine;  differ  from  the  dead." 

In  the  early  part  of  our  history  the  American  college  was 
largely  ecclesiastical,  ami  young  men  attended  college  to  study 
church  creeds.     Gradually,  however,  the  college  became  a  civil 

and  political  institution.  When  the  commonwealth,  realizing 
that  a  gi  ncral  diffusion  <>f  knowledge  was  essential  to  the  pres- 
ervation of  the  liberties  and  rights  of  the  people,  undertook 
the  great  duty  of   educating   its   children,  and    each    state  of  the 

Union  established  a  university  at,  the  head  of  its  system  of 
public  education,  the  American   university  passed  to  a  higher 


40  ROSS'S   SPEAKER. 

and  broader  plane,  and  now  has  for  its  object  the  preparation 
of  men  and  women  for  all  the  high  duties  of  citizenship. 

This  university  was  established  by  Texans  for  Texans,  and 
must  be  administered  for  Texans.  Every  officer  and  employee 
should  be  imbued  with  a  patriotic  desire  to  serve  this  great 
commonwealth.  Every  young  man  and  young  woman  educated 
within  these  walls  owes  it  to  the  state  to  repay  its  outlay  for 
them. 

The  greatest  good  that  can  come  into  the  life  of  a  human 
being  through  the  process  of  education  is  a  personal  richness 
and  beauty.  "Education  is  not  to  make  us  seem  to  be  greater 
to  the  world,  but  that  the  world  and  all  life  and  all  eternity  may 
seem  greater  and  richer  and  more  beautiful  to  us." 

Let  me  hold  up  to  you  the  beauty  and  glorious  possibilities 
of  the  youth  with  which  you  are  endowed.  Do  you  realize  what 
a  peerless  privilege  it  is  to  be  young  ?  Youth  is  admitted  by  all  to 
be  the  most  fascinating  period  of  life,  with  its  freshness,  its  enthu- 
siasm and  confidence,  frankly  responding  to  every  act  of  kind- 
ness and  opening  the  heart  to  every  overture  of  love.  It  has 
been  said,  "  Youth  is  the  time  when  we  own  the  world  and  the 
fulness  thereof.  Youth,  like  Napoleon,  sees  the  world  and 
proceeds  to  conquer  it.  Youth  sees  mountains  and  dares  to 
climb  them  ;  stone  walls,  and  dares  to  beat  them  down ;  chasms, 
and  dares  to  bridge  them."  Youth  here  at  the  beginning  of  the 
twentieth  century  has  all  history  and  all  lands  for  its  demesne, 
though  it  may  live  in  a  cottage  or  a  cabin.  It  has  for  its  birth- 
right every  discovery,  every  invention,  every  conquest  since  the 
world  began.  Youth,  for  which  the  cave  dwellers  made  their 
rude  implements  of  stone  as  they  groped  their  way  in  the  dawn 
of  human  evolution.  Youth,  for  whom  Shakespeare  wrote,  for 
whom  Newton  and  Kepler  and  Edison  solved  the  mysteries  of 
the  world,  and  for  whom  the  twentieth  century  is  preparing  to 
open  its  golden  gates  of  promise. 

Let  me  emphasize  the  fact  that  character  is  above  everything. 
It  is  the  only  indestructible  material  in  destiny's  fierce  crucible. 
Character  is  itself  a  rank  and  an  estate.  Character  stands  in 
majesty  unawed  and  unmoved  before  men  and  devils.  Char- 
acter stands  confident  and  trustful  in  the  presence  of  God  him- 
self. Genius,  so  often  lauded,  fails  frequently  of  its  aim  for 
want  of  character  to  support  it.  The  men  upon  whom  society 
leans  are  men  of  proved  honor,  rectitude  and  consistency,  whose 
sterling  character  gives  pledge  of  faithfulness  to  every  trust  com- 
mitted to  them. 


REUNITED.  41 

Thackeray  says:  "  Nature  has  written  a  letter  of  credit  upon 
some  men's  faces  which  is  honored  wherever  presented.  There 
is  a  '  promise  to  pay '  in  their  faces  that  inspires  confidence,  and 
you  prefer  it  to  another  man's  indorsement.''  As  the  rivulet 
scoops  out  the  valley,  moulds  the  hillside  and  carves  the  moun- 
tain's face,  so  the  stream  of  thought  sculptures  the  soul  into 
grace,  mellows  the  heart  to  tenderness  and  love,  and  these  are 
mirrored  in  the  countenance. 

In  summing  up  all  I  would  say  to  you,  let  mc  borrow  the  fine 
phrase  of  a  gifted  man  of  our  own  time : 

"  Live  out  truly  your  human  life  as  a  human  life ;  not  as  a 
supernatural  life,  for  you  are  a  man  and  not  an  angel ;  not  as  a 
sensual  life,  for  you  are  a  man  and  not  a  brute  ;  not  as  a  wicked 
life,  for  you  arc  a  man  and  not  a  demon  ;  not  as  a  frivolous  life, 
for  you  are  a  man  and  not  an  insect.  Live  each  day  the  true 
life  of  a  man  to-day  ;  not  yesterday's  life  only,  lest  you  become 
a  visionary  ;  but  the  life  of  happy  yesterdays  and  confident  to- 
morrows— the  life  of  to-day,  unwounded  by  the  Parthian  arrows 
of  yesterday  and  undarkened  by  the  possible  cloudland  of  to- 
morrow." 


Rev  11  itcd.— William  McKinlkt. 

I  cannot  withhold  from  these  people  my  profound  thanks  for 
their  hearty  reception  and  the  good  will  which  they  have  shown 
me  everywhere  and  in  every  way  since  T  have  been  their  guest. 
I  thank  them  for  the  opportunity  which  this  occasion  gives  me 
of  meeting  and  greeting  thero  and  for  the  pleasure  it  affords  me 
to  participate  with  them  in  honoring  the  army  and  navy,  to 
whose  achievements  we  are  indebted  for  one  of  the  most  bril- 
liant chapters  of  American  history. 

Under  hostile  lire,  on  a  foreign  soil,  fighting  in  a  common 
'•aii^e  the  memory  of  old  disagreements  has  faded  into  history. 
Prom  camp  and  campaign  there  comes  the  magic  healing  which 
has  closed  ancient  wounds  and  effaced  their  scars.  For  this 
result  ever]  American  patriot  will  forever  rejoice.  It  is  no 
small  indemnity  for  the  cost  of  war. 

The  government  has  proved  itself  invincible  in  the  recent  war, 
and   out,  of   it  has   come    a    nation  which  will  remain  indivisible 

forevermore.  No  worthier  contributions  have  been  made  in 
patriotism  and  in  men  than  by  the  people  of  these  Southern 
States.      When   at.    last  the   opportunity  came   they  were  eager 


42  ROSS'S   SPEAKER. 

to  meet  it  and  ■with  promptness  responded  to  the  call  of  the 
country.  Intrusted  with  the  able  leadership  of  men  dear  to 
them,  who  had  marched  with  their  fathers  under  another  flag, 
now  fighting  under  the  old  flag  again,  they  have  gloriously 
helped  to  defend  its  spotless  folds  and  added  new  lustre  to  its 
shining  stars. 

That  flag  has  been  planted  in  two  hemispheres,  and  there  it 
remains,  the  symbol  of  liberty  and  law,  of  peace  and  progress. 
Who  will  withdraw  from  the  people  over  whom  it  floats  its  pro- 
tecting folds?    Who  will  haul  it  down? 

The  victory  we  celebrate  is  not  that  of  a  ruler,  a  President,  or 
of  a  Congress,  but  of  the  people.  The  army  whose  valor  we 
admire  and  the  navy  whose  achievements  we  applaud  were  not 
assembled  by  draft  or  conscription,  but  by  voluntary  enlistment. 
The  heroes  came  from  civil  as  well  as  military  life.  Trained 
and  untrained  soldiers  wrought  our  triumphs. 

The  peace  we  have  won  is  not  a  selfish  truce  of  arms,  but  one 
whose  conditions  presage  good  to  humanity.  The  domains  se- 
cured by  the  treaty  yet  to  be  acted  upon  by  the  Senate  came  to 
us,  not  as  the  result  of  a  crusade  of  conquest,  but  as  the  reward 
of  temperate,  faithful,  and  fearless  response  to  the  call  of  con- 
science, which  could  not  be  disregarded  by  a  liberty-loving  and 
Christian  people. 

We  have  so  borne  ourselves  in  the  conflict  and  in  our  inter- 
course with  the  powers  of  the  world  as  to  escape  complaint  of 
complication  and  give  universal  confidence  in  high  purpose  and 
unselfish  sacrifices  for  struggling  peoples.  The  task  is  not  ful- 
filled. Indeed,  it  is  only  just  begun.  This  is  the  time  for 
earnest,  not  faint  hearts.  The  most  serious  work  is  still  before 
us,  and  every  energy  of  heart  and  mind  must  be  bent  and  the 
impulses  of  partisanship  subordinated  to  its  faithful  execution. 

This  war  was  waged,  not  for  revenge  or  aggrandizement,  but 
for  our  oppressed  neighbors,  for  their  freedom  and  amelioration. 
It  was  short  but  decisive.  It  recorded  a  succession  of  significant 
victories  on  land  and  sea.  It  gave  new  honors  to  American 
arms.  It  has  brought  new  problems  to  the  Republic,  whose 
solution  will  tax  the  genius  of  our  people.  United  we  will  meet 
and  solve  them  with  honor  to  ourselves  and  to  the  lasting  bene- 
fit of  all  concerned.  The  war  brought  us  together  ;  its  settle- 
ment will  keep  us  together. 

Reunited  !  Glorious  realization  !  It  expresses  the  thought  of 
my  mind  and  the  long-deferred  consummation  of  my  heart's 
desire  as   I   stand  in  this  presence.     It  interprets  the  hearty 


A   TLEA   FOR   CUBA.  43 

demonstration  here  witnessed  and  is  the  patriotic  refrain  of  all 
sections  and  of  all  lovers  of  the  Republic. 

Reunited  !  One  country  again  and  one  country  forever ! 
Proclaim  it  from  the  press  and  pulpit !  Teach  it  in  the  school?  ! 
Write  it  across  the  skies  !  The  world  sees  and  feels  it  !  It  cheers 
every  heart.  North  and  South,  and  brightens  the  life  of  every 
American  home.  Let  nothing  ever  strain  it  again.  At  peace 
with  all  the  world  and  with  each  other,  what  can  stand  in  the 
pathway  of  our  progress  and  prosperity  ? 


A  Plea  for  Cuba.—  John  M.  Thurston. 

I  am  here  by  command  of  silent  lips  to  speak  once  and  for 
all  upon  the  Cuban  situation.  I  shall  endeavor  to  be  honest, 
c  >nservative  and  just.  I  have  no  purpose  to  stir  the  public 
passion  to  any  action  not  necessary  and  imperative  to  meet  the 
duties  and  necessities  of  American  responsibility,  Christian  hu- 
manity  and  national  honor.  I  would  shirk  this  task  if  I  could, 
but  I  dare  not.  I  cannot  satisfy  my  conscience  except  by  speak- 
ing and  speaking  now. 

The  pictures  in  the  American  newspapers  of  the  starving 
n  .oiicentrados  are  true.  They  can  all  be  duplicated  by  the 
thousands.  I  never  saw,  and  please  God  1  may  never  again  see, 
so  deplorable  a  sight  as  the  reconcentrados  in  the  suburbs  of 
Matanzas.  I  can  never  forget  to  my  dying  day  the  hop, 
anguish  in  their  despairing  eyes.  Men,  women  and  children 
stand  silent — famishing  with  hunger.  Their  only  appeal  conies 
from  their  sad  eyes,  through  which  one  looks  as  through  an 
open  window  into  their  agonizing  souls.  The  government  of 
Spain  has  not  and  will  not  appropriate  one  dollar  to  save  these 
people.  They  are  now  being  attended  and  nursed  and  admin- 
istered to  by  the  charity  of  the  United  States.  Think  of  the 
spectacli  I  We  are  feeding  these  citizens  of  Spain;  we  are 
nursing  their  sick;  we  are  saving  Buch  as  can  be  saved,  and  yet 
there  are  those  who  still  Bay  it  is  right  for  us  to  send  food,  but 
we  musl  keep  hands  off.  I  say  that  the  time  has  come  when 
muskets  ought  to  go  with  the  food. 

I  shall  refer  to  these  horrible  things  no  further.  They  are 
there.  God  pity  me,  1  have  seen  them;  they  will  remain  in  my 
mind  forever — and  this  is  almost  the  twentieth  century.  Christ 
died  nineteen  hundred  years  ago,  and  Spain  is  a  Christian  na- 
tion.     She  has  Bel  up  more  crosses  in  more  lands,  beneath  more 


44  ROSS'S   SPEAKER 

skies,  and  under  them  has  butchered  more  people  than  all  the 
other  nations  of  the  earth  combined. 

Europe  may  tolerate  her  existence  as  long  as  the  people  of 
the  Old  World  wish.  But  God  grant  that  before  another 
Christmas  morning  the  last  vestige  of  Spanish  oppression  and 
tyranny  will  have  vanished  from  the  Western  Hemisphere. 

Mr.  President,  the  distinguished  Senator  from  Vermont  has 
seen  all  these  things;  he  knows  all  these  things;  he  has  de- 
scribed all  these  things ;  but  after  describing  them  he  says  he  has 
nothing  to  propose,  no  remedy  to  suggest.  I  have.  I  am  only 
a  humble  unit  in  the  great  government  of  the  United  States, 
but  I  should  feel  myself  a  traitor  did  I  remain  silent  now. 

The  time  for  action  has  come.  No  greater  reason  for  it  can 
exist  to-morrow  than  exists  to-day.  Every  hour's  delay  only 
adds  another  chapter  to  the  awful  story  of  misery  and  death. 
Only  one  power  can  intervene — the  United  States  of  America. 
Ours  is  the  one  great  nation  of  the  New  World,  the  mother  of 
American  Republics.  She  holds  a  position  of  trust  and  respon- 
sibility toward  the  peoples  and  the  affairs  of  the  whole  Western 
Hemisphere. 

Mr.  President,  thei'c  are  those  who  say  that  the  affairs  of 
Cuba  are  not  the  affairs  of  the  United  States,  who  insist  that  we 
can  stand  idly  by  and  see  that  island  devastated  and  depopu- 
lated, its  business  interests  destroyed,  its  commercial  intercourse 
with  us  cut  off,  its  people  starved,  degraded  and  enslaved.  It 
may  be  the  naked,  legal  right  of  the  United  States  to  stand  thus 
idly  by. 

I  have  the  legal  right  to  pass  along  the  streets  and  see  a  help- 
less dog  stamped  into  the  earth  under  the  heels  of  a  ruffian.  I 
can  pass  by  and  say  that  is  not  my  dog.  I  can  sit  in  my  com- 
fortable parlor  with  my  loved  ones  gathered  about  me,  and 
through  my  plate-glass  window  see  a  fiend  outraging  a  helpless 
woman  near  by,  and  I  can  legally  say  this  is  no  affair  of  mine — 
it  is  not  happening  on  my  premises;  and  I  can  turn  away  and 
take  my  little  ones  in  my  arms,  and,  with  the  memory  of  their 
sainted  mother  in  my  heart,  look  up  to  the  motto  on  the  wall 
and  read,  "God  bless  our  home."  But  if  1  do,  I  am  a  coward 
and  a  cur,  unlit  to  live,  and,  God  knows,  unfit  to  die.  And  yet 
I  cannot  protect  the  dog  nor  save  the  woman  without  the  exer- 
cise of  force. 

We  cannot  intervene  and  save  Cuba  without  the  exercise  of 
force,  and  force  means  war;  war  means  blood.  The  lowly 
Nazarenc  on  the.  °hores  of  Galilee  preached  the  divine  doctrine 


LITTLE   GIFFEN,   OF   TENNESSEE.  45 

of  love,  "Peace  on  earth,  good  will  toward  men."  Not  peace 
on  earth  at  the  expense  of  liberty  and  humanity.  Not  good 
will  toward  men  who  despoil,  enslave,  degrade,  and  starve  to 
death  their  fellow-men.  I  believe  in  the  doctrine  of  Christ.  1 
believe  in  the  doctrine  of  peace;  but  Mr.  President,  men  must 
have  liberty  before  there  can  come  abiding  peace. 

The  time  for  God's  force  has  come  again.  Let  the  impas- 
sioned lips  of  American  patriots  once  more  take  up  the  song: 

In  the  beauty  of  the  lilies  Christ  was  borne  across  the  sea, 
With  a  glory  in  His  bosom  that  transfigured  you  and  me; 
As  He  died  to  make  men  holy,  let  us  die  to  make  men  free, 
For  God  is  marching  on. 

Others  may  hesitate,  others  may  procrastinate,  others  may 
plead  for  further  diplomatic  negotiation,  which  means  delay, 
but  for  me,  I  am  ready  to  act  now,  and  for  my  action  I  am  ready 
to  answer  to  my  conscience,  my  country  and  my  God. 

Mr.  President,  in  the  cable  that  moored  me  to  life  and  hope 
the  strongest  strands  are  broken.  I  have  but  little  left  to  offer 
at  the  altar  of  Freedom's  sacrifice,  but  all  I  have  1  am  glad  to 
give.  I  am  ready  to  serve  my  country  as  best  I  can  in  the 
Senate  or  in  the  field.  My  dearest  wish,  my  most  earnest  prayer 
to  God  is  this,  that  when  death  comes  to  end  all,  I  may  meet  it 
calmly  and  fearlessly  as  did  my  beloved,  in  the  cause  of  human- 
ity under  the  American  flag. 


Little  (liffp.n,  of  Tcnnrszcc 

TnE  story  of  Little  <u(Ten  is  said  to  be  literally  true.  His  name 
was  Isaac  Giffen,  and  lie  was  bom  of  humble  parents  in  onetof  the 
liamlets  of  Fast  Tennessee.  His  father  was  a  blacksmith.  Little 
Hiffen  was  terribly  shot  in  one  of  the  battles  of  Tennessee,  and  car- 
ried with  other  wounded  far  south  to  be  cared  for.  Sadly  mutilated, 
and  so  like  a  child  in  appearance  as  to  Lave  seemed  "borne  by  the 

tide  of  war  from  the  cradle  to  the  jaws  Of  death,"  he  was  taken  from 

the  hospital  to  Columbus,  Ga.,  to  the  home  of  Dr.  V.  o.  Tichnor,  five 
miles  south  of  that  place.  He  remained  with  the  family  n  year,  but 
was  always  anxious  to  return  to  the  war,  which  he  did  in  lime  to  be 
killed  near  Atlanta,  it  is  supposed,  and  t>i  be  buried  in  one  of  tho 
numerous  graves  in  Oakland  cemetery  which  hear  the  melancholy 
legend,  "  Unknown  "    The  poem  was  written  by  l>r.  V.  0.  Tichuor  : 

Out  of  the  focal  and  foremosl  fire, 
Out  of  the  hospital  walls  a-  diro, 


46  ROSS'S   SPEAKER. 

Smitten  of  grape-shot  and  gangrene, 
(Eighteen  battles  and  he  sixteen  !) 
Spectre !  such  as  you  seldom  see, 
Little  Giffen,  of  Tennessee  ! 

"Take  him  and  welcome,"  the  surgeon  said; 
"  Little  the  doctor  can  help  the  dead." 
So  we  took  him,  and  brought  him  where 
The  balm  was  sweet  in  the  summer  air; 
And  we  laid  him  down  on  a  wholesome  bed- 
Utter  Lazarus  from  heel  to  head  ! 

And  we  watched  the  war  with  a  bated  breath, 
Skeleton  boy  against  skeleton  death, 
Mouths  of  torture,  how  many  such? 
Weary  weeks  of  the  stick  and  crutch  ; 
And  still  the  glint  of  the  steel-blue  eye 
Told  of  a  spirit  that  wouldn't  die. 

And  didn't.      Nay,  more  !  in  death's  despite 
The  crippled  skeleton  learned  to  write. 
"  Dear  Mother,"  at  first,  of  course,  and  then 
"  Dear  Captain,"  inquiring  about  the  men. 
Captain's  answer  :    "  Of  eighty  and  five, 
Giffen  and  I  are  left  alive." 


Word  of  gloom  from  the  war  one  day : 

Johnson  pressed  at  the  front,  they  say. 

Little  Giffen  was  up  and  away  ; 

A  tear,  his  first,  as  he  bade  good-bye, 

Dimmed  the  glint  of  his  steel-blue  eye; 

"  I'll  write,  if  spared  !  "  There  was  news  of  the  fight, 

But  none  of  Giffen — he  did  not  write. 


I  sometimes  fancy  that  were  I  king 

Of  the  princely  Knight  of  the  Golden  Ring, 

With  the  song  of  the  minstrel  in  mine  ear, 

And  the  tender  legend  that  trembles  here, 

I'd  give  the  best  on  his  bended  knee, 

The  whitest  soul  of  my  chivalry, 

For  "Little  Giffen,  of  Tennessee." 


DEVELOPMENT   OF   SOUTHERN  RESOURCES.  47 

On  the   Development  of  Southern   Resources. 
Wb.  H.  Garland, 

It  is  pleasing,  with  folded  arms,  "to  stand  and  gaze  at  the  gor- 
geous sunset ;  to  mark  each  floating  cloud  as  it  is  touched  with 
its  golden  fringe,  and  weave  fancy  after  fancy  into  a  bright  tis- 
sue for  the  future;  thus  to  stand  until  the  stars  peep  out,  an \ 
then,  with  a  bound  of  the  spark  ethereal,  which  gives  life  and 
variety  to  man's  thoughts,  pass  from  star  to  star,  peopling  them 
with  our  thoughts,  and  rilling  them  with  our  fancies;  but  while 
we  are  pursuing  these  fancies  of  the  mind,  Nature  in  her  changes 
reminds  us,  by  the  gathering  darkness  and  falling  dew,  that 
man's  life  was  not  to  be  all  a  dream,  but  that  on  him  rested 
high  responsibilities  ;  that  while  he  was  thus  indulging  in  pleasing 
fancies,  and  permitting  the  mind  to  waste  itself  in  dreams,  he 
was  neglecting  the  development  of  those  blessings  which  Nature 
has  so  bounteously  bestowed  on  him. 

In  this  day  and  time,  when  the  mind  is  exercising  its  sover- 
eignty over  matter,  the  truth  is  felt  and  recognized  that  the  gath- 
ering of  the  fruit,  and  the  enjoyment  of  the  blessings  of  Heaven, 
belongs  not  to  the  inert  and  slothful,  but  to  those  who,  by  the 
employment  of  those  faculties  of  the  mind  with  which  a  good 
God  has  blessed  them,  render  the  things  of  this  world  subservi- 
ent to  the  great  ends  of  their  creation,  the  happiness  and  per- 
fection of  man.  Let  not,  then,  this  convention  waste  its  time  on 
the  pleasing  fancies  that  cluster  around  abstract  questions,  but  let 
it,  like  that  circlet  of  stars,  cluster  around  one  great  idea,  until 
their  concentrated  rays  shall  form  one  burning  centre,  so  bright 
that  the  path  which  leads  to  the  power,  prosperity,  and  happiness 
of  the  south  shall  be  so  plain  that  none  will  hesitate. 

What  this  idea  should  be,  it  is  only  necessary  for  us  to  look 
abroad  to  our  sister  states,  and  see  the  rapid  strides  which  some 
of  them  have  made  to  greatness  and  wealth.  But  ;i  few  years 
since  New  York  occupied  but  a  secondary  position  in  the  eon- 
federation  of  states:  now  she  is  the  empire  state  in  popula- 
tion, wealth,  and  power.  The  genius  of  her  Clinton  opened  her 
western  resources,  and  filled  her  forests  with  a  teeming  popula- 
tion. The  mind  of  her  people  indulged  not  in  pleasing  dreams, 
but  was  directed  to  the  development  of  those  gifts  with  which 
God  had  blessed  them.  Ohio  caught  the  brighl  spirit  of  prog- 
ress,  and  her  lines  of  improvement,  by  penetrating  every  corn<  r 
have  filled  her  rich  valleys  with  a  teeming  population,  and  mad* 
hei  on.- of  the  first  states  . .1' tin •  I  "iii»»ii.  Georgia,  firsl  of  tun 
Southern  States,  was  roused  to  the  employment  of  her  energies; 


48  ROSS'S   SPEAKER. 

and  now  her  barren  plains  are  the  abode  of  j- --"nictive  industry 
and  the  happy  coltage  marks  each  of  her  mour  rain  passes. 

From  these  let  us  gather  wisdom,  and  by  the  emplo3'ment  of 
the  bright,  noble  spirit  of  the  south,  develop  those  advantages 
which  Nature  has  so  bounteously  bestowed  on  us.  Carry  your 
lines  of  improvement  to  every  section,  and  thus  open  for  "it  a 
highway  for  the  transfer  of  the  productions  of  its  industry,  and 
you  will  soon  bring  wealth  and  power  to  the  south. 

Much  has  been  said  of  the  unequal  influence  of  the  south  in 
the  hall  of  Congress,  and  resolution  upon  resolution  has  been 
offered  on  the  subject ;  but  this  will  not  rectify  the  inequality. 
To  do  this  let  the  mind  of  the  south  be  directed  to  the  develop- 
ment of  the  advantages  which  Nature  has  so  bounteously  be- 
stowed on  her,  and  thus  fill  her  now  waste  lands  with  a  teeminp 
population.  This  increased  population  will  bring  her  increased 
representation  on  the  floors  of  Congress,  and  to  this,  and  this 
alone   are  we  to  look  for  an  equalization  of  power. 


The  Same,  continued. 

It  is  not,  Mr.  President,  by  passing  resolutions,  or  indulging  in 
pleasing  fancies,  that  our  object  is  to  be  attained  ;  but  the  mind 
must  act  upon  matter,  and  give  to  it  a  practical  application  to 
the  concerns  of  life.  In  the  discussions  of  the  Pacific  Railroad, 
New  Orleans,  and  even  Louisiana,  seem  to  have  been  forgotten. 
The  important  position  which  we  occupy  to  the  trade  of  the 
Valley  of  the  Mississippi  has  been  overlooked.  When  the  At- 
lantic shall  have  been  linked  to  the  Pacific  by  a  line  of  improve- 
ment, New  Orleans  must  become  one  of  the  most  importani 
rities  of  the  world.  When  the  trade  of  the  Indies  shall  pour 
all  its  commerce  along  these  lines,  it  must  be  in  the  lap  of  New 
Orleans  that  this  rich  traffic  must  be  first  poured  —  from  its 
warehouses  to  be  diffused  through  the  broad  Valley  of  the  Mis- 
sissippi. Not  only  this,  but  the  immense  and  constantly  in- 
creasing productions  of  the  North-western  States  will  have  to 
find  a  mart  in  some  other  land  than  Europe. 

Where  is  it  to  be,  save  in  the  Indies,  and  the  constantly  in- 
creasing traffic  of  the  Gulf — where  the  song  of  liberty,  freighted 
wit'i  all  of  its  happiness,  shall  go  bounding 

"  O'er  the  glad  waters  of  the  dark,  blue  wave, 

With  hopes  as  boundless,  and  with  thoughts  as  tree," 

until  the   islands  of  the  Gulf  shall  echo    tack  the  glad  tidings? 


DEVELOPMENT   OF   SOUTHERN   RESOURCES.  1.) 

There  shall  we  find  in  those  sunny  lands  a  mart  for  our  pro- 
ductions. When  this  shall  be,  and  the  Indies  pour  a.jng  our 
lines  of  improvement  their  wealth,  the  United  States  will  become 
what  England  now  is  —  the  storehouse  of  the  world.  And  that 
this  is  no  fanciful  idea,  it  is  only  necessary  to  note  the  passing 
< -vents.  Make  these  improvements,  and  your  communication 
from  Canton,  by  New  Orleans  and  New  York  to  London,  will 
be  made  in  forty-five  days,  while  now  the  shortest  time  across 
the  Isthmus  of  Suez  is  sixty-two  days ;  making  so  great  a  differ- 
ence in  time  that  all  mercantile  men  will  understand  that  it  must 
revolutionize  that  commerce. 

How  is  this  mighty  line  of  communication  to  be  made  ?  Al- 
ready have  we  lines  of  railroads  constructed,  or  in  the  process 
of  construction,  reaching  from  the  Atlantic  to  the  Mississippi. 
These  are  met  by  lines  stretching  far  into  the  west,  from  New 
Orleans,  Vicksburg,  and  other  points.  Give  to  these  lines,  if 
not  your  money,  at  least  the  support  of  your  approbation.  Do 
this,  and  the  day  is  not  distant  when  the  whistle  that  wakes  on 
the  Atlantic  will  be  heard  on  the  shores  of  the  Pacific.  Let 
these  lines  be  pressed  forward  to  completion,  and  when  they  shall 
meet  in  the  far  west  in  fraternal  embrace,  then  let  the  general 
government  welcome  them,  and  carry  them  to  completion. 

Much  has  been  said  about  the  prejudices  of  the  present,  and 
the  holy  memories  of  the  past.  If  you  would  remove  the  one 
and  perpetuate  the  other,  extend  your  lines  of  improvements  so 
that  the  different  sections  may  be  brought  into  closer  contact, 
and  thus,  by  knowing  each  other  better,  learn  to  judge  more 
charitably  and  more  justly.  If  you  would  perpetuate  the  past, 
let  your  sons  go  to  the  plains  of  Lexington,  and  there  read  the 
heroism  of  the  past ;  let  them  stand  on  the  cliffs  of  Yorktown, 
and  look  upon  the  waters  that  were  lashed  into  a  storm  by  the 
very  finger  of  Heaven  to  protect  our  land,  and  there  gather  up 
the  holy  memories  of  the  past,  and  feel  their  hearts  to  expand 
and  their  thoughts  to  be  elevated  to  emulate  the  deeds  of  their 
fathers;  and  let,  too,  their  sons  visit  our  warm  and  sunny  south, 
and  while  gazing  upon  the  fields  made  memorable  by  southern 
valor  and  the  heroism  of  a  Jackson,  feel  in  their  hearts  the 
enthusiasm  that  warms  the  southern  bosom  for  this  glorious 
Union.  Thus  let  them  gather  up  all  their  memories,  and  in  lh<' 
high  and  noble  resolves  which  they  will  prompt,  let  them 

"  Snatch  from  the  anhes  of  their  sire* 
The  embers  of  their  former  tiree, 
And  leave  their  mhi*  a  hoiic,  u  fume, 
They,  tOO,  would  lather  die  than  whame." 

4 


50  ROSS'S   SPEAKER. 

Influence  of  Lofty    Thovghts  and  Noble  Sentiments 

Albert  Pike, 

There  were  noble  and  brave  deeds  done  by  woman  during 
our  war  of  independence,  that  have  exercised  a  greater  influ- 
ence on  the  destinies  of  the  American  people  than  all  the  legis- 
lation of  a  century.  I  have  spoken  elsewhere  of  Mrs.  Motte, 
who  supplied  to  Marion  the  arrows  tipped  with  fire,  wherewith 
to  burn  down  her  own  property  occupied  by  the  enemy.  Should 
war  ever  again  call  on  the  youth  of  South  Carolina  to  rally  to 
the  support  of  the  starry  flag  of  our  common  country,  that 
single  act  of  devotion  and  heroism  would  exert  more  influence 
than  all  the  legislation  since  the  existence  of  our  country  com- 
menced. And  a  noble  thought  or  high  sentiment  uttered  here 
may  be  mightier  for  a  century  to  come  than  all  the  legislation 
of  the  Union  or  the  victories  of  Napoleon.  Such  words  and 
thoughts  are  the  noblest  estate  of  the  people  among  which  they 
are  uttered. 

There  are  single  passages  in  the  writings  of  Daniel  Webster 
that  will  exercise  more  influence  upon  the  youth  of  America  than 
all  the  statutes  of  this  Union.  There  are  songs  written  by  men 
whose  names  are  now  forgotten  that  are  more  to  the  American 
people  than  a  regiment  of  bayonets.  "  Let  him  who  will  make 
the  laws  of  a  nation,  if  I  may  but  make  its  songs,"  was  well  and 
truly  said.  The  apparently  trifling  song  of  Lillibullero  was  the 
chief  cause  of  the  downfall  of  James  II.  How  much  influence 
do  you  imagine  the  songs  of  our  own  country  are  exerting  ?  Do 
you  imagine  that  we  should  make  a  profitable  bargain  in  case  of 
a  new  war,  by  exchanging  the  song  of  Yankee  Doodle  for  fifty 
thousand  foreign  soldiers  led  by  a  field  marshal  ?  This  is  a 
kind  of  property  you  can  not  trade  away  with  profit.  You  can 
not  profitably  part  with  your  lofty  thoughts  and  noble  sentiments 
any  more  than  we  can  profitably  part  with  our  own  souls. 

This  kind  of  property  we  can  create  in  this  convention.  You 
can  utter  noble  thoughts,  you  can  erect  imperishable  monuments 
that  shall  live  from  age  to  age.  It  is  the  proudest  object  of  the 
human  mind  to  utter  a  thought  that  shall  live  through  all  coming 
time.  Mr.  President,  if  this  convention  and  its  three  predeces- 
sors shall  succeed  in  uttering  one  single  thought  that  shall  live 
through  all  time,  it  will  have  amply  repaid  the  labor  of  its  mem- 
bers, and  have  given  them  the  happy  assurance  that  they  have 
done  something  for  their  country  and  their  age.  It  has  been  said 
that  a  monument  is  the  embodiment  of  a  single   loft)'  sentiment 


REPRODUCTIVE   IMMORTALITY   OF   LANGUAGE.       51 

m  marble.  I  would  have  this  convention  aid  in  building  such  a 
monument,  not  in  marble,  but  in  iron  —  an  arm  of  iron  extending 
across  the  continent  and  clutching  the  Pacific  in  its  grasp  ;  and 
when  that  monument  is  built,  that  embodiment  of  the  great  idea 
of  the  ace,  if  some  one  standing  near  it  while  the  commerce 
of  the  world  goes  rushing  by  him  as  on  the  wings  of  the  wind, 
and  after  our  bones  have  moldered  into  dust,  should  say  with 
truth  that  to  this  convention  now  assembled  in  New  Orleans  that 
great  work  was  in  any  degree  owing,  we  should  be  amply  repaid 
for  all  our  labors  in  the  cause  of  our  country. 


Reproductive  Immortality  of  Language. 
Rev.  H.  B.  Bascom. 

Language  never  dies,  and  the  perpetuity  and  multiplication  of 
/bought,  in  the  shape  of  philosophy,  science,  poetry,  religion, 
and  the  arts,  are  not  only  coincident  possibilities,  but  necessarily 
adjunctive  conceptions  and  resulting  developments.  Where  now 
are  the  temples  and  palaces,  the  catacombs  and  monuments,  of 
antiquity  ?  And  of  those  that  do  remain,  how  many  are  the 
chances  and  changes  threatening  their  destruction  ?  An  earth- 
quake might  give  the  pyramids  of  the  Nile  or  the  grandeur  of 
Rome  to  oblivion.  The  mere  sacking  of  a  city  might  annihilate 
the  Apollo  Belvedere  or  the  Venus  de'  Medici ;  but  how  many 
of  earth's  proudest  dynasties  have  not  thought  and  language  sur- 
vived by  thousands  of  years  ! 

What  revolutions  of  time,  and  events  of  various  mundane  in- 
terest, have  not  occurred  since  the  first  man  and  woman  were 
expelled  from  the  Eden  of  their  innocence  !  And  yet  the  record 
lives.  Homer  is  no  more.  Of  his  history  we  know  but  little, 
of  his  ashes  nothing  ;  and  yet,  by  means  of  language,  he  has 
indissolubly  bound  the  world  to  the  ihrone  of  his  genius,  through- 
out all  generations.  Accident  threw  Demosthenes  upon  the 
notice  of  the  world,  in  the  city  of  Minerva  ;  as  interest  or  emer- 
gency required,  for  a  few  successive  years,  he  threw  the  thunder 
of  his  unequaled  eloquence  upon  the  star  lied  ear  of  Greece, 
and  then  disappeared  with  the  generation  to  which  he  belonged  ; 
but  by  means  of  letters,  Demosthenes  shall  continue  the  mode 

of    the  senate  an<l  the  har,  until    the  world    shall    have  no  use  for 

either  ! 


&2  ROSS'S   SPEAKER. 


Franklin's  Toast. 

Long  after  Washington's  victories  over  the  French  and  English 
had  made  his  name  familiar  to  all  Europe,  Dr.  Franklin  had 
chanced  to  dine  with  the  English  and  French  embassadors,  when, 
as  nearly  as  we  can  recollect  the  w  ords,  the  following  toasts  were 
drank  :  — 

By  the  British  embassador  :  "  England,  the  san,  whose  bright 
beams  enlighten  and  fructify  the  remotest  corners  of  the  earth." 

The  French  embassador,  glowing  with  national  pride,  but  too 
polite  to  dispute  the  previous  toast,  drank,  "  France,  the  moon, 
whose  mild,  steady,  and  cheering  rays  are  the  delight  of  all  na- 
tions, consoling  them  in  darkness,  and  making  their  dreariness 
beautiful." 

Dr.  Franklin  then  arose,  and  with  his  usual  dignified  simplicity, 
said,  "  George  Washington,  the  Joshua  who  commanded  the 
sun  and  moon  to  stand  still,  and  they  obeyed  him." 


The  March  of  Improvement. 

The  arts  and  sciences,  aided  by  the  bold,  inventive  genius  of 
prolific  mind,  have  brought  mankind  from  the  clumsy  devices  of 
dark  ages  to  the  cultivated  usages  of  a  high  civilization.  The 
mighty  war  steamer,  or  the  graceful  ship  that  "  walks  the  water 
like  a  thing  of  life,"  directed  with  unerring  certainty  by  the 
compass,  has  superseded  the  rude  galley  of  Phoenicia  and  Car- 
thage ;  the  beast  of  burden  has  yielded  to  the  locomotive ;  the 
panting  courier  to  Morse's  magnetic  telegraph  ;  and  the  engines 
of  Archimedes,  historic  with  ancient  Syracuse,  to  Colt's  sub- 
marine battery. 

Natural  History,  the  priestess  of  nature,  has  called  around 
her  all  the  varieties  of  objects  in  the  animal,  mineral,  and  vege 
table  kingdoms,  and  has  assigned  to  them  their  names  and  clas- 
sifications. Chemistry  has  fathomed  the  mysteries  of  nature 
and  taught  us  in  the  elements  of  matter  the  properties  of  thes( 
elements,  and  unfolded  their  laws  of  combination.  She  has  be 
come  the  great  physician  of  diseased  and  decaying  nature.  The 
safety  lamp,  the  lightning  rod,  and  magnetic  masks,  to  repel  the 
floating  atoms  of  steel  so  fatal  to  the  operatives  in  the  needle 
manufactories,  are  among  the  gifts  of  science. 

Astronomy,  too  —  shall    I    omit    to    speak    of   ;ts    advances  I 


TILE  MISER.  M 

Once  a  mystic  art,  kt  ivn  only  as  the  vagje  and  shadowy  astrol- 
ogy of  Chaldean  and  Egyptian  priests,  it  has  now  hecome  a  grand 
and  demonstrative  science.  By  furnishing  an  exact  measure- 
ment of  time  it  has  dispensed  witn  the  toilsome  and  anxious 
watches,  common  among  the  Egyptians  and  ancient  Greeks,  to 
discover  the  rising  of  the  star  Sirius,  of  Arcturus,  the  Pleiades, 
and  Orion. 

By  revealing  the  causes  of  these  phenomena  it  has  dispelled 
the  superstitious  fears  that  the  comet  was  the  fiery  soul  of  Caesar, 
seeking  vengeance  upon  his  murderers,  or  that  it  is  to  be  intim- 
idated by  the  thunders  of  the  church  ;  and  that  the  eclipse  was  a 
monster  devouring  the  sun,  to  be  scared  awav  bv  a  volley  of 
Turkish  musketry,  or  to  be  wailed  as  some  terrible  evil  by  the 
Moorish  song  of  death.  In  short,  it  has  spread  the  chart  of  the 
heavens  before  us,  and  taught  us  familiarly,  in  a  knowledge  of 
the  s'ars,  the  motions,  relations,  and  laws  of  the  great  bodies  of 
the  universe. 

But  why  dwell  upon  illustrations  ?  Why  attempt  to  recount 
the  evidences  of  the  march  of  mind,  the  progress  of  improve- 
ment ?  As  the  crowding  figures  of  a  dazzling  panorama,  they 
charm  whilst  thev  defv  enumeration.  The  task  would  be  almost 
as  vain  as  the  effort  to  count  the  leaves  of  the  forest,  or  the  star9 
that  glitter  in  the  firmament.  Suffice  it  to  say,  they  constitute 
the  distinction  of  the  present  age,  and  the  hopeful  pledge  of  a 
perprtually  progressive  future. 


The  Miser.—  Captain  G.  W.  Cuttml 

An  old  man  sat  by  a  fireless  hearth, 

Though  the  nitrht  was  dark  and  chill, 
And  mournfully  over  the  frozen  earth 

The  wind  sobbed  loud  and  shrill. 
His  locks  were  gray,  and  his  eyes  were  gray. 

And  dim,  but  not  with  tears  ; 
And  his  skeleton  form  had  wasted  away 

With  penury  more  than  years. 

A  rushlight  was  casting  its  fitful  glare 

(>Vr  the  <lani|i  and  dingy  walls, 
Where  the  lizard  hath  made  his  slimy  lair. 

And  the  venomous  ppider  crawls  ; 


54  ROSS'S   SPEAKER. 

But  the  meanest  thing  in  this  lonesome  room 

Was  the  miser  all  worn  and  bare, 
When  he  sat  like  a  ghost  on  an  empty  tomb, 

On  his  broken  and  only  chair. 

He  had  bolted  the  window  and  barred  the  door, 

And  every  nook  he  had  scanned, 
And  ftnt  the  fastening  o'er  and  o'er, 

With  his  cold  and  skinny  hand  ; 
And  yet  he  sat  gazing  intently  round, 

And  trembled  with  silent  fear, 
And  startled  and  shuddered  at  every  sound 

That  fell  on  his  coward  ear. 

;t  Ha,  ha  !  "  laughed  the  miser  ;  "  I'm  safe  at  last 

From  the  night  so  cold  and  drear, 
From  the  drenching  rain  and  the  driving  blast, 

With  my  gold  and  treasure  here. 
I  am  cold  and  wet  with  the  icy  rain, 

And  my  health  is  bad,  'tis  true ; 
Yet  if  I  should  light  that  fire  again 

It  would  cost  me  a  cent  or  two. 

"  But  I'll  take  a  sip  of  the  precious  wine ; 

It  will  banish  my  cold  and  fears  ; 
It  was  given  long  since  by  a  friend  of  mine  ; 

I  have  kept  it  for  many  years." 
So  he  drew  a  flask  from  a  moldy  nook, 

And  drank  of  its  ruby  tide  ; 
And  his  eyes  grew  bright  with  each  draught  he  took. 

And  his  bosom  swelled  with  pride. 

"  Let  me  see  ;  let  me  see  !  "  said  the  miser  then  ; 

"  'Tis  some  sixty  years  or  more 
Since  the  happy  hour  when  I  began 

To  heap  up  the  glittering  store  ; 
And  well  have  I  sped  with  my  anxious  toil, 

As  my  crowded  chest  will  show  ; 
I've  more  than  would  ransom  a  kingdom's  spoil 

Or  an  emperor  could  bestow. 

"  From  the  Orient  realm  I  have  rubies  bright, 
And  gold  from  the  famed  Peru  ; 


INDIVIDUAL   INFLUENCE.  55 

I've  u.dnionds  would  shame  the  stars  of  nigh* 

And  pearls  like  the  morning  dew ; 
And  more  I'll  have  ere  the  morrow's  sun 

His  rays  from  the  west  shall  fling ; 
That  widow,  to  free  her  prisoned  son, 

Shall  hring  me  her  bridal  ring ! " 

He  turned  to  an  old  worm-eaten  chest, 

And  cautiously  raised  the  lid, 
And  then  it  shone  like  the  clouds  in  the  west, 

With  the  sun  in  their  splendor  hid  ; 
And  gem  after  gem,  in  precious  store, 

Are  raised  with  exulting  smile ; 
And  he  counted  and  counted  them  o'er  and  o'er, 

Tn  many  a  glittering  pile. 

Ah,  why  comes  the  flush  on  his  pallid  brow, 

While  his  eyes  like  his  diamonds  shine  ? 
Why  writhes  he  thus  in  such  torture  now  ? 

What  was  there  in  the  wine  ? 
II is  lonely  seat  he  strove  to  regain  • 

To  crawl  to  his  nest  he  tried  ; 
But  finding  his  efforts  were  all  in  vain, 

He  clasped  his  gold,  and  —  died. 


Individual  Influence.  —  Uev.  Dr.  Dbakb. 

I  uave  long  accustomed  myself  to  feel  a  deep  and  abiding 

nteresl  in  whatever  concerns  my  race.     I  am  an  integral  part 

>f  the  k'reat  whole,  and  as  small  an  atom  as  I  may  be,  I  am  taugh.. 

to  believe  that  every  other  atom  in  the  universe  is  more  or  less 

tfected  by  my  conduct.     "No  man  liveth  to  himself,"  and  in 

mi'-  material  sense,  every  man  is  his  brother's  keeper.     "That 

golden  chain"  which  binds  us  to  the  throne  of  God  with  a  fell 

responsibility  for  all  our  actions,  links  us  in  indissoluble  fraternity 

with  the  whole  brotherhood  of  man.      "  If  one  ink  drop  on  a 

solitary  thoughl  has  stirred  the  minds  of  millions,  or  a  brief  human 

breath  has  disturbed  the  surrounding  atmosphere,  so  as  to  com- 

municate  itself  to  the  entire  system  of  the  universe,  how  careful 

should  we  lie  that  the  impulse  we  give  be  in  the  right  direction !  "* 

I'vl  a  philanthropic  Beer  stood   on  the  shores  of  Spain,  when 

•  Mm.  HI({ourn»y. 


56  ROSS'S   SPEAKER. 

the  frail  jarks  of  Columbus  set  sail  for  the  discovery  of  th*  rwv 
world,  and  had  foreseen  the  success  which  crowned  that  dubio'»s 
enterprise  —  the  waking  of  the  slumbering  nations  of  Europe  — 
the  increase  of  the  enterprise  and  commerce  of  the  nations  —  the 
.immense  wealth  which  rolled  back  on  the  old  world  —  the  civil- 
ization and  Christianity  which  found  their  way  to  the  new  — 
especially  had  he  marked  one  luminous  spot  on  the  eastern  coast 
of  North  America,  where  he  saw  a  mighty  nation  rise  up  like  a 
pharos  on  the  dark  ocean  of  political  despotism  and  religious 
intolerance,  guiding  all  who  would  follow  her  light  to  freedom 
and  toleration  —  had  he  seen  this  luminous  spot  spreading  itself 
from  sea  to  sea,  and  sending  its  messengers  to  all  lands,  and  be- 
coming influential  in  all  that  concerns  the  entire  race  of  man  — 
with  all  this  in  the  prophet's  vision,  how  earnestly  would  he  have 
gazed  at  the  gallant  barks  as  they  plunged  the  untried  wave, 
lifting  up  his  prayer  to  God  for  a  prosperous  voyage,  and  giving 
any  item  of  information  that  might  be  useful  to  the  expedition ! 

Thus  it  is  when  I  see  youthful  voyagers  just  about  to  be 
launched  on  what  is  to  them  the  untried  sea  of  active  life.  They 
may  not  be  in  search  of  a  new  world,  but  it  is  vastly  important 
that  they  should  escape  the  corruptions  of  the  old.  They  may 
not  plant  new  colonies,  but  they  seek  a  better  country.  When  1 
consider  the  preciousness  of  the  freight  which  they  bear,  the  ever- 
widening  and  deepening  influence  which  their  successful  voyage 
will  produce,  I  can  not  but  feel  a  deep  solicitude  for  their  safety 
and  success. 


Moral  Independence. 

Popular  sentiment  marshals  her  forces,  and  endeavors  to  dnv<; 
the  man  of  moral  independence  from  his  lofty  position ;  she 
frowns  and  threatens,  smiles  and  flatters ;  he  hears  the  angry 
8  lrges  dashing  around  him,  is  fully  conscious  of  his  danger,  an 
yet  remains  firm  as  the  wave-beaten  rock.  Our  peculiar  con- 
dition as  a  people  demands  a  host  of  such  men,  yet  we  fear  the 
number  among  us  is  small.  How  many  of  our  young  men  take 
counsel  of  their  passions,  their  prejudices,  their  interests,  or  their 
ease,  rather  than  follow  the  plain  dictates  of  truth  and  virtue ' 
How  many,  even,  who  profess  to  love  the  right,  will  sometimes 
see  principle  trampled  in  the  dust,  and  lie  bleeding  at  every  pore, 
and  yet  offer  no  hand  of  relief,  no  arm  of  defence,  no  voice  of 
expostulation  and  reproof  against  the  wrong-doer  !  How  many, 
even  in  official  stations,  are  more  solicitous  to  know  how  thev 


THE   FIRST   GUN   OF   FREEDOM.  y) 

can  please  the  people,  and  conciliate  their  favor,  than  how  tfwy 
can  instruct  and  improve  them  ! 

We  want  men  as  prompt,  as  firm,  as  valiant  in  defence  of  the 
right  and  the  true,  as  is  the  brave  soldier  on  the  field  of  battle 
He  manfully  meets  the  enemy  face  to  face,  brings  to  the  conflie 
all  his  energies,  and  when  he  retreats,  if  retreat  he  must,  befor 
superior  skill  or  force,  he  carries  with  him  the  respect  and  th« 
admiration  of  both  friends  and  foes.     Who  has  not  admired  the 
pe.sonal  courage,  the  independent  spirit,  and  the  resolute  firm- 
ness of  Napoleon's  distinguished  marshal,  who  commanded  the 
rear  guard  of  the  grand  army  on  its  memorable  retreat  from 
Russia  ?     Having  exhibited  prodigies  of  valor,  and  endured  .sard- 
ships  almost  unparalleled  in  the  annals  of  war,  he  reached  at 
•ength  the  River  Niemen,  which  forms  the  boundary  of  the  Rus- 
sian territory.     Here  his  soldiers  all  deserted  ;  but  by  extraordi- 
nary exertions  he  succeeded  in  rallying  thirty  men,  with  whom, 
for  a  time,  he  kept  the  enemy  at  bay  ;  and  when  this  small  party 
abandoned  the  cause  as  desperate,  he  fought  the  enemy  single 
handed.     Slowly  retreating  through  the  streets  of  Wilna,  witk 
his  face  to  the  foe,  he  crossed  the  bridge  over  the  Niemen,  and 
was  the  last  of  the  army  that  left  the  Russian  territory. 

Proceeding  to  the  first  town  where  food  and  rest  could  be 
obtained,  he  fell  in  with  an  officer  of  rank,  an  old  companion  in 
arms,  by  whom  he  was  not  at  first  recognized.  "  Who  are  you  ?  " 
s.iid  the  general.  Mark  his  reply.  "  I  am  the  rear  guard  of  the 
grand  army  of  France,  Marshal  Ney.  I  have  fired  the  last  mus- 
kel  shot  on  the  bridge  of  Kowno  —  I  have  thrown  into  the  Niemen 
the  last  of  our  arms  —  and  I  have  walked  hither  alone,  as  you 
see  me,  across  the  forest."  What  more  could  he  have  done  ? 
And  what  a  model  is  here  presented  for  all  who  are  engaged  in 
the  great  moral  conflict!  Let  our  posts  of  influence,  high  and 
low  be  filled  bv  men  of  such  unyielding  purpose,  such  determined 
perseverance  in  resisting  ibe  enemies  of  virtue  and  truth,  and  let 
our  children  be  early  taught  to  contend  thus  earnestly  against 
vice,  without  regard  to  personal  consequences,  and  who  could 
despair  of  the  republic  ? 


The  First.  Gun  of  Frert/om.  —  Evkhbtt, 

Oh  the  19th  of  April  the  all-important  blow  was  struck  —  the 
blow  which  severed  the  fated  chain  whose  every  link  was  bolted 
by  an  act  of  parliament,  whose  every  rivet  was  closed  up  by  an 


&g  ROSS'S    SPEAKER. 

,»rde.*  in  council,  which  bound  to  the  wake  of  Europe  the  brave 
bark  of  our  youthful  fortune,  destined  henceforth  and  forever  to 
••ide  the  waves  alone  —  the  blow  which  severed  the  fated  chain 
was  struck.  The  blow  was  struck  which  will  be  felt  in  its  con- 
sequence to  ourselves  and  the  family  of  nations  till  the  seventh 
seal  is  broken  upon  the  apocalyptic  volume  of  the  history  of 
empires.  The  consummation  of  four  centuries  was  completed. 
The  life-long  hopes  and  heart-sick  visions  of  Columbus,  poorly 
fulfilled  in  the  subjugation  of  the  plumed  tribes  of  a  few  tropical 
islands  and  the  distant  glimpse  of  a  continent,  cruelly  mocked 
by  the  fetters  placed  upon  his  noble  limbs  by  his  own  menial, 
and  which  he  carried  with  him  into  his  grave,  are  at  length  more 
than  fulfilled,  when  the  new  world  of  his  discovery  put  on  the 
sovereign  robes  of  her  separate  national  existence,  and  joined  the 
great  Panathenaic  procession  of  the  nations.  The  wrongs  of 
generations  were  redressed. 

The  cup  of  humiliation  drained  to  the  dregs  by  the  old  Puritan 
confessors  and  non-conformist  victims  of  oppression  ;  loathsome 
prisons  ;  blasted  fortune  ;  lips  forbidden  to  open  in  prayer ;  earth 
and  water  denied  in  their  pleasant  native  land ;  the  separations 
and  sorrow  of  exile  ;  the  sounding  perils  of  the  ocean ;  the  scented 
hedgerows  and  vocal  thickets  of  the  "  old  countrie  "  exchanged 
for  the  pathless  wilderness  ringing  with  the  war  whoop  and 
gleaming  with  the  scalping  knife  ;  the  secular  insolence  of  colo- 
nial rule,  checked  by  no  periodical  recurrence  to  the  public  will ; 
governors  appointed  on  the  other  side  of  the  globe  that  knew  not 
Joseph  ;  the  patronizing  disdain  of  undelegated  power  ;  the  legal 
contumely  of  foreign  law,  wanting  the  first  element  of  obligations, 
the  consent  of  the  governed  expressed  by  his  authorized  repre- 
sentative ;  and  at  length  the  last  unutterable  and  burning  affront 
and  shame,  a  mercenary  soldiery  encamped  upon  the  fair  emi- 
nences of  our  cities ;  ships  of  war  with  springs  on  their  cables 
moored  in  front  of  our  crowded  quays ;  artillery  planted  open- 
mouthed  in  our  principal  streets,  at  the  doors  of  our  houses  of 
assembly,  their  morning  and  evening  salvos  proclaiming  to  the 
rising  and  setting  sun  that  we  are  the  subjects  and  they  the 
lords,  —  all  these  phantoms  of  the  long  colonial  night  swept  off  by 
the  first  sharp  volley  on  Lexington  green. 

Well  might  Samuel  Adams  exclaim  as  he  heard  it,  "  O,  what 
a  glorious  morning  is  this  !  "  Glorious,  but  as  is  too  often  the 
case  with  human  glories,  the  germ  and  the  fruit  of  sorrow,  sanc- 
tified with  tears  and  sealed  with  blood.  Precious  lives  are  to  be 
sacrificed ;  great  trials,  public  and  private,  to  be  endured  ;  eight 
years  of  war  are  to  desolate  the  land  ;  patriot  armies  are  to  march 


A   PATRIOTIC   HYMN  59 

with  bloody  feet  over  ice-clad  fields;  a  cloud  of  anxiety  must 
hang  over  the  prospects  of  one  generation  of  the  young,  while 
another  of  the  aged  go  down  to  the  grave  before  the  vision  is 
fulfilled;  but  still  glorious  at  home  and  abroad  —  glorious  for 
America,  and,  strange  as  the  word  may  sound,  glorious  for 
England.  Lord  Chatham  rejoiced  that  America  had  resisted. 
Surely  Lord  Chatham  never  rejoiced  in  the  shame  of  England ; 
he  rejoiced  :nat  America  had  resisted,  because  she  resisted  on 
the  great  principles  of  constitutional  liberty.  Burke,  in  the  early 
stages  of  the  contest,  spoke  these  golden  words  :  "  We  view  the 
h,tablishment  of  the  British  colonies,  on  principles  of  liberty,  as 
hat  which  is  to  render  this  kingdom  venerable  to  future  ages, 
i  comparison  of  this,  we  regard  all  the  victories  and  conquests 
.,f  our  warlike  ancestors,  or  of  our  own  times,  as  barbarous  and 
vulgar  distinctions,  in  which  many  nations,  whom  we  look  upon 
with  little  respect  or  value,  have  equaled  if  not  exceeded  us. 
This  is  the  peculiar  glory  of  England." 


A  Patriotic  Hymn.  —  Knickerbocker  Magazine, 

New  England  mountains,  Texian  plains, 
Virginia  slopes,  Nebraska  vales, 

One  noble  language  breathes  its  strains 
Along  the  freedom  of  your  gales  ; 

One  mighty  heart  pulsates  beside 

The  rolling  of  )  our  every  tide. 

One  patriot  glory  spreadeth  white 
Seraphic  wings  above  your  pas!, 

Ami  rainbows  in  eternal  light 

The  costly  blood  which  showered  fast 

<  'n  battle  fields  of  ancient  time, 

When  love  of  country  was  a  crime. 

1  le;-.)ic  memories  strike  their  root 
Along  your  every  hill  and  shore; 

\nil  not  a  flower  beneath  the  foot 
Bui  bourgeons  proudly  (nun  the  gore 

0'  noble  b  w  hicta  calmly  met 

The  charging  foeman's  bayonet 


60  ROSS'S   SPEAKER. 

The  ecnoes  of  old  battles  roll 
In  thunder  down  your  cataracts, 

And  utter  startlingly  the  soul 

Of  glorious  times  and  deathless  acts  : 

The  changeless  sun-bow  waveth  there 

Your  stripes  along  its  native  air. 

A  deathless  rush  of  crimson  rills 

Through  spectral  ranks  runs  steeply  dow* 

New  England's  first  of  battle  hills, 
By  Freedom's  sickle  fiercely  mown, 

And  echoes,  even  to  our  veins, 

But  faintly  worthy  of  such  strains. 

The  ice  upon  the  Delaware 

Still  trembles  'neath  unshodden  feet, 

Which  over-track  its  chilly  glare 

With  life  blood  oozing  through  the  sleet  «•• 

The  footfalls  of  a  race  of  men 

Whose  like  we  shall  not  see  again. 

The  horn  of  Marion  echoes  clear 
Through  Carolina's  aged  pines, 

Whose  every  dew-drop,  like  a  tear, 
Is  dashed  aside  by  bannered  vines, 

Which,  faithless  of  the  hero's  fall, 

Still  vibrate  to  his  battle  call. 

The  vivid  thought  of  Franklin  beams 
In  every  lightning  glare  that  flies 

Above  our  zone-traversing  streams, 
Along  our  ocean-bounded  skies, 

And  bids  us  open  reverent  souls 

To  truth's  eternal  thunder  rolls. 

Mount  Vernon  bosoms  in  its  sod 
That  generation's  noblest  heart, 

Whom  Greece  had  shrined  a  demi-god  — 
A  man  without  a  counterpart ; 

The  throbbings  of  that  patriot  breast 

Are  echoed  in  our  farthest  west. 

Such  heroes  splendored  not  alone, 
But  many  more  who  nameless  sleep 


INDIVIDUAL    CHARACTER   OF    NATIONS.  61 

Beneath  the  hasty  funeral  stone, 

Where  Nature  took  them  to  her  deep, 
Kind  bosom,  from  the  reeling  strife 
Of  breast  to  breast  and  knife  to  knife. 

God  help  us  keep  the  sacred  trust 

Our  sires  bequeathed  us  with  our  breath, 

Crush  treason  in  its  native  dust, 
And  struggle,  faithful  unto  death, 

With  fearless  soul  and  tireless  hand, 

For  liberty  and  fatherland. 


Individual  Character  of  Nations.  —  J.  c.  andbbws, 

Nations  are  neither  accidental  nor  arbitrary  divisions  of  men 
They  exist  by  divine  appointment,  and  are  the  product  of  natura. 
laws  as  truly  as  families.  The  distinction  between  the  various 
races  of  men  on  the  earth  lies  deep  in  the  constitution  of  human 
nature  itself,  and  can  never  be  rooted  out.  It  is  not  the  division 
of  countries  by  any  geographical  lines,  any  physical  boundaries, 
—  by  mountains  or  rivers,  or  capes  or  seas,  —  that  divides  people. 
Fill  up  the  British  Channel  and  make  it  a  plain,  and  would  that 
make  an  Englishman  a  Frenchman  ?  Bridge  over  the  Danube, 
and  will  that  change  an  Austrian  into  a  Turk  ?  These  distinc- 
tions lie  too  deep  to  be  blotted  out  by  a  mere  change  of  place 
or  clime. 

They  are  impressed  upon  the  whole  man  —  upon  his  mind, 
his  heart,  his  body.  Nations  have  a  peculiar  character  as  tru- 
ly as  individuals  ;  and  language,  customs,  manners,  institutions, 
all  proclaim  the  power  of  national  life.  The  inspired  record, 
that  "  God  divided  to  the  nations  their  inheritance,"  clearly  re- 
veals  his  purpose  that  peoples  should  be  preserved  distinct,  thai 
the  peculiar  characteristics  of  each  might  be  fully  developed, 
and  thus  all  that  is  good  and  noble  in  humanity  be  brought  to 
light.  As  in  the  family  circle,  th<  re  is  manifested,  in  the  highest 
degree,  depth  and  disinterestedness  of  affection,  purity  and 
earnestness  of  love,  so  in  the  nation,  we  find  corresponding 
Strength  and  fervor  of  patriotism,  the  spirit  of  devotion  and 
self-sacrifice. 

The  noblest  virtues  which  can  adom  humanity  are  the  natural 
Iruit  of  vigorous  national  life.  Never  lias  there  been  a  nation 
•.hat  has  distinguished  itself  by  its  lofty  deeds,  that  has   l,.-i-n   the 


62  ROSS'S   SPEAKER. 

fruitful  mother  of  great  men,  that  has  not  cherishes  in  a  high 
degree  the  sprit  of  nationality.  Where  was  this  spirit  ever 
more  intense  than  among  the  Hebrew  nation  —  the  chosen  peo- 
ple ?  What  people  was  ever  more  strongly  national  than  the 
Greeks,  or  labored  more  earnestly  to  develop  the  richness  of 
the  national  mind  ?  And  how  brilliant  is  her  history  !  How  full 
of  illustrious  names  are  her  brief  annals  in  the  days  of  her  pros- 
perity and  pow^r  '  Thus  was  it  with  Rome,  and  thus  has  it  been 
with  every  nation  that  has  exerted  any  important  influence  upon  the 
destinies  of  the  world.  They  have  all  labored,  not  to  extinguish  or 
suppress,  but  to  awaken,  and  preserve,  and  strengthen  a  national 
spirit,  and  to  cultivate  to  its  highest  perfection  the  national  genius. 

"  Lives  there  a  man  with  soul  so  dead, 
Who  never  to  himself  hath  said, 
This  is  my  own,  my  native  land  ?  " 

Let  men  talk  as  they  will  about  the  attraction  and  beauties  of 
cosmopolitanism  and  universal  brotherhood,  that  man  whose 
heart  goes  not  out  with  peculiar  strength  of  affection  toward  the 
land  that  gave  him  birth,  —  toward  the  grounds  he  trod  in  child- 
hood, the  old  roof  tree,  —  who  loves  not  to  go  back  and  revise 
the  early  scenes,  and 

"  Awaken  the  echoes  that  start 
When  memory  plays  an  old  tune  on  the  heart,"  — 

is  devoid  of  the  noblest  sensibilities  of  our  nature.  Patriotism 
to  him  is  a  word  without  meaning,  and  love  of  country  a  senti- 
ment alien  to  his  soul. 


A  New  Continent.  —  anon. 

The  coral  reefs  of  the  Pacific  Ocean  have  been  in  part  meas- 
ured, and  are  found  to  be  of  amazing  extent,  and  a  new  conti- 
nent is  in  process  of  formation.  All  the  labor  is  accomplished 
by  zoophytes  —  insects  ;  and  if  we  wish  to  form  some  conception 
of  their  doings,  we  have  but  to  remember  that  the  coral  formations 
of  the  Pacific  occupy  an  area  of  four  or  five  thousand  miles, 
and  to  imagine  what  a  picture  the  ocean  would  present  were  it 
suddenly  drained.  We  should  walk  amid  huge  mounds  which 
had  been  cased  and  capped  with  the  stone  these  animals  had  se- 
creted. Prodigious  cones  would  rise  from  the  ground,  all  tower- 
ing to  the  same  altitude,  reflecting  the  light  of  the  sun  from  their 
white  summits  with  dazzling  intensity.  Here  and  there  wa  should 
see  a  huge  platform,  once  a  large  island,  whose   peaks  as  thej 


THE   CORAL    GROVE.  63 

sank  weie  clothed  in  coral,  and  then  prolonged  jpward  untv 
they  rose  before  us  like  the  columns  of  some  huge  temple  whici. 
had  been  commenced  by  the  Anadins  of  an  antediluvian  world 
Champollion  has  said  of  the  Egyptian  edifices,  that  they  seem 
to  have  been  designed  by  men  fifty  feet  high.  Here,  wandering 
among  these  strange  monuments,  we  might  fancy  that  beings 
one  hundred  yards  in  stature  had  been  planting  the  pillars  of 
some  colossal  city  they  had  never  lived  to  complete.  The  build- 
ers were  worms,  and  the  quarry,  whence  they  dug  their  masonry, 
the  crystal  wave.  In  the  event  of  this  vast  extent  of  coral  reef 
being  upheaved,  where  or  whence  will  the  waters  of  the  Pacific 
recede  ?  Either  the  western  shores  of  the  American  continent, 
and  away  to  the  Rocky  Mountains,  will  be  submerged,  or  the 
shores  of  opposite  Asia  —  for  innumerable  ages  the  cradle  of 
man's  development  and  civilization  —  will  sink  into  the  great 
abyss  ;  rmd  the  ships  of  the  inhabitants  of  this  globe,  when  it  adds 
ten  thousand  years  to  its  age,  will  sail  over  and  find  no  soundings 
where  millions  to-day  toil  in  unresisting  servitude,  and  where 
cities  fnm  gorgeous  cupolas  and  storied  palaces  fling  back  the 
rays  of  the  rising  and  the  declining  sun. 


The  Coral  Grove.  —  Pbboival. 

Deep  in  the  wave  is  a  coral  grove, 
Where  the  purple  mullet  and  goldfish  rove, 
Where  the  seaflower  spreads  its  leaves  of  blue, 
That  never  are  wet  with  falling  dew, 
Rut  in  bright  and  changeful  beauty  shine, 
Fai  down  in  the  green  and  glassy  brine. 

The  floor  is  of  sand,  like  the  mountain  drift, 

And  the  pear]  shells  spangle  the  flinty  snow; 
From  coral  rocks  the  sea  plants  lift 

Their  boughs  where  des  and  billows  flow 

The  water  is  calm  and  still  below, 

For  the  winds  and  wavi    are  absenl  there, 
And  the  sands  are  brighl  as  the  stars  thai  glow 

In  the  motionless  field  i  of  upper  air  ; 
There,  with  its  waving  blade  of  green, 

The  seaflag  streams  through  the  silenl  water, 
And  the  crimson  leaf  of  the  dulse  is  seen 

To  blush  like  a  banner  bathed  in  slaughter; 


g4  ROSS'S   SPEAKER. 

There,  with  a  light  and  easy  motion, 

The  fan  coral  sweeps  through  the  clear   deep  sea, 
And  the  yellow  and  scarlet  tufts  of  ocean 

Are  bending  like  corn  on  the  upland  lea 
And  life,  in  rare  and  beautiful  forms, 

Is  sporting  amid  those  bowers  of  stone, 
And  is  safe  when  the  wrathful  spirit  of  storms 

Has  made  the  top  of  the  waves  his  own  ; 
And  when  the  ship  from  his  fury  flies, 

When  the  myriad  voices  of  ocean  roar, 
When  the  wind  god  frowns  in  the  murky  skies, 

And  demons  are  waiting  the  wreck  on  shore, — 
Then,  far  below,  in  the  peaceful  sea, 

The  purple  mullet  and  goldfish  rove, 
Where  the  waters  murmur  tranquilly 

Through  the  bending  twigs  of  the  coral  grove. 


Life.  —  Heber. 

Life  bears  us  on  like  the  current  of  a  mighty  river.  Ou; 
boat,  at  first,  glides  down  the  narrow  channel,  through  ihe  play- 
ful murmurings  of  the  little  brook,  and  the  windings  of  its  grassy 
border.  The  trees  shed  their  blossoms  over  our  young  head- 
trie  flowers  on  the  brink  seem  to  offer  themselves  to  our  hands  , 
we  are  happy  in  hope,  and  we  grasp  eagerly  at  the  beauties 
around  us  ;  but  the  stream  hurries  us  on,  and  still  our  hands  are 
^mpty. 

Our  course  in  youth  and  manhood  is  along  a  wider  and  deeper 
flood,  and  amid  objects  more  striking  and  magnificent.  We  are 
animated  by  the  moving  picture  of  enjoyment  and  industry 
which  passes  before  us  ;  we  are  excited  by  some  short-lived  suc- 
cess, or  depressed  and  made  miserable  by  some  equally  short- 
lived disappointment.  But  our  energy  and  our  dependence  are 
both  in  vain.  The  stream  bears  us  on,  and  our  joys  and  our  griefs 
are  alike  left  behind  us  ;  we  may  be  shipwrecked,  but  we  can  not 
anchor  ;  our  voyage  may  be  hastened,  but  it  can  not  be  delayed  ; 
whether  rough  or  smooth,  the  river  hastens  toward  its  home, 
till  the  roaring  of  the  ocean  is  in  our  ears,  and  the  tossing  of 
the  waves  is  beneath  our  keel,  and  +he  land  lessens  from  our  eyes 
and  the  floods  are  lifted  up  around  us,  and  we  take  our  last  leav 
of  the  earth  and  its  inhabitants  ;  and  of  our  farther  voyaga 
there  is  no  witness  but  the  Infinite  p.nd  Eternal. 


BEYOND   THE    RIVER.  £ 


Beyond  the  River.  —  Nbw  Obxbaws  Cuou 

Time  is  a  river  deep  and  wide ; 

And  while  along  its  banks  we  stray, 
We  see  our  loved  ones  o'er  its  tide 

Sail  from  our  sight,  away,  away. 
Where  are  they  sped  —  they  who  return 

No  more  to  glad  our  longing  eyes  ? 
They've  passed  from  life's  contracted  bourn, 

To  land  unseen,  unknown,  that  lies 
Beyond  the  river. 

'Tis  hid  from  view  ;  but  we  may  guess 

How  beautiful  that  realm  must  be  ; 
For  gleamings  of  its  loveliness, 

In  visions  granted,  oft  we  see. 
The  very  clouds,  that  o'er  it  throw 

Their  veil,  unraised  for  mortal  sight, 
With  gold  and  purple  timings  glow, 

Reflected  from  the  glorious  light 
Beyond  the  river. 

And  gentle  airs,  so  sweet,  so  calm, 

Steal  sometimes  from  that  viewless  sphere ; 
The  mourner  feels  their  breath  of  balm, 

And  soothed  sorrow  dries  the  tear. 
And  sometimes  listening  ear  may  gain 

Entrancing  sound  that  hither  floats  — 
The  echo  of  a  distant  strain 

Of  harps'  and  voices'  blended  notes, 
Beyond  the  river. 

There  are  our  loved  ones  in  their  rest ; 

They've  crossed  Time's  River ;  now  no  more 
They  heed  the  bubbles  on  its  breast, 

Nor  feel  the  storms  thai  sweep  its  shore. 
But  there  pure  love  can  live,  can  last; 

They  look  for  us  their  home  to  share. 
When  we  in  turn  away  have  passed, 

What  joyful  greetings  wait  us  there, 
Beyond  i lie  river 


66  ROSb'S   SPEAKER. 


A    Valedictory  Address.—  Putnam. 

We  thank  you,  friends,  who  have  come  hither,  on  this  occa 
sion,  to  encourage  and  cheer  us  with  your  presence.  We  thank 
you,  who  have  gone  so  far  and  learned  so  much,  on  your  journey 
of  life,  that  you  so  kindly  look  back  and  smile  upon  us  just  set- 
ting out  on  our  pilgrimage.  We  thank  you,  who  have  climbed  so 
high  up  the  Hill  of  Science,  that  you  condescend  to  pause  a 
moment  in  your  course,  and  bestow  a  cheering,  animating  glance 
on  us,  who,  almost  invisible  in  the  distance,  are  toiling  over  the 
roughness  of  the  first  ascent.  May  you  go  on  your  way  in 
peace,  your  path,  like  the  sun,  waxing  brighter  and  brighter  till 
the  perfect  day ;  and  may  the  light  of  your  example  long  linger 
in  blessings  on  those  of  us  who  shall  survive  to  take  your  places 
in  the  broad  and  busy  world. 

We  thank  you,  respected  instructors,  for  your  paternal  care, 
your  faithful  counsels,  and  affectionate  instructions.  You  have 
opened  before  us  those  ways  of  wisdom  which  are  full  of  pleas- 
antness and  peace.  You  have  warned  us  of  danger,  when  dan- 
gers beset  our  path ;  you  have  removed  obstacles,  when  obstacles 
impeded  our  progress  ;  you  have  corrected  us  when  in  error,  and 
cheered  us  when  discouraged.  You  have  told  us  of  the  bright 
rewards  of  knowledge  and  virtue,  and  of  the  fearful  recompense 
of  ignorance  and  vice.  In  the  name  of  my  companions,  I  thank 
you  —  warmly,  sincerely  thank  you  for  it  all.  Our  lips  can  not 
express  the  gratitude  that  glows  within  our  hearts ;  but  we  will 
endeavor,  with  the  blessing  of  Heaven,  to  testify  it  in  our  future 
lives,  by  dedicating  all  that  we  are,  and  all  that  we  may  attain, 
to  the  promotion  of  virtue  and  the  good  of  mankind. 

And  now,  beloved  companions,  I  turn  to  you.  Long  and 
happy  has  been  our  connection  as  members  of  this  school : 
but  with  this  day  it  must  close  forever.  No  longer  shall  we  sit 
in  these  seats  to  listen  to  the  voice  that  wooes  us  to  be  wise  ;  no 
more  shall  we  sport  together  on  the  noisy  green,  or  wander  in 
the  silent  grove.  Other  scenes,  other  society,  other  pursuits 
await  us.  We  must  part ;  but  parting  shall  only  draw  closer 
the  ties  that  bind  us.  The  setting  sun  and  the  evening  star, 
which  have  so  often  witnessed  our  social  intimacies  and  joys, 
shall  still  remind  us  of  the  scenes  that  are  past.  While  we  live 
on  the  earth  may  we  cherish  a  grateful  remembrance  of  each 
other;  and  O,  in  heaven  may  our  friendship  be  purified  and 
perpetuated.  And  now  to  old  and  young,  to  patrons  and  friends 
to  instructors  and  each  other,  we  tender  our  reluctant  and 
affectionate  farewell  ' 


MERCY.  —  COLLEGIATE  EDUCATION.  67 

Mercy.  —  Shakbpbarb. 

The  quality  of  mercy  is  not  strained  ; 
It  droppeth  as  the  gentle  rain  from  heaven 
Upon  the  place  beneath  :  it  is  twice  blessed  ; 
It  blesseth  him  that  gives  and  him  that  takes : 
'Tis  mightiest  in  the  mightiest ;  it  becomes 
The  throned  monarch  better  than  his  crowji : 
His  scepter  shows  the  force  of  temporal  "power, 
The  attribute  to  awe  and  majesty, 
Wherein  doth  sit  the  fear  and  dread  of  kings : 
But  mercy  is  above  the  sceptered  sway ; 
It  is  enthroned  in  the  hearts  of  kings, 
It  is  an  attribute  of  God  himself; 
And  earthly  power  doth  then  show  likest  God's, 
When  mercy  seasons  justice ;  therefore,  Jew, 
Though  justice  be  thy  plea,  consider  this  — 
That  in  the  course  of  justice  none  of  us 
Should  see  salvation.     We  do  pray  for  mercy ; 
And  that  same  prayer  doth  teach  us  all  to  render 
The  deeds  of  mercy  :  I  have  spoke  thus  much 
^o  mitigate  the  justice  of  thy  plea. 


Collegiate  Education.  —  c.  Rosbuot, 

The  question  has  been  sneeringly  asked,  Of  what  practice! 
benefit  is  the  knowledge  of  Greek  and  Latin,  and  the  higher 
branches  of  mathematics,  to  those  who  do  not  intend  to  enter  the 
learned  professions?  Persons  who  propound  such  questions 
seem  to  have  lost  sighl  of  the  fact,  thai  the  great  and  paramount 
object  of  education  is,  the  development  and  strengthening  of  the 
powers  of  the  mind,  and  thai  thai  important  end  can  only  he 
attained  by  exercising  and  disciplining  the  mental  faculties. 
Now, every  one  who  lias  bestowed  the  least  consideration  on  .he 
tubjeel  musl  know  that  nothing  is  better  calculated  to  fix  the 
attention,  and  to  induce  thoughl  ami  reflection,  than  the  study 
of  the  dead  languages  and  the  mathematics.  Indeed,  it  is  obvi- 
ous that  not  oik'  step  can  he  taken  in  these  studies  without 
bringing  nearly  all  the  mental  powers  into  active  operation.  It 
is  therefore  manifest,  that,  without  insisting,  tor  the  present,  at 
all  on  the  manifold  other  advantages  resulting  from  a  proficiency 
in  o'ossic  literature:,  ami  the'   mathematical  and   natural  sciences 


68  ROSS'S  SPEAKER. 

the  sividy  of  these  branches  of  knowledge  is,  at  any  rate,  of  in. 
calculable  benefit  as  the  means  of  accomplishing  the  great  end 
of  education  —  the  improvement  of  the  mind. 

It  is  said  that  Wisdom  does  not  speak  to  her  followers  in  Latin, 
Greek,  and  Hebrew  only,  but  that  she  teaches  her  sublime  les- 
sons in  the  pages  of  Shakspeare,  Milton,  Jeremy  Taylor,  and  a 
brilliant  constellation  of  other  authors,  who  have  all  written  in 
our  own  nervous  vernacular.  This  is  true.  But  let  me  ask,  What 
class  of  readers  nourish  their  minds  with  the  strong,  healthy, 
and  invigorating  food  set  before  them  by  these  writers  ?  Cer- 
tainly not  those  whose  taste  has  been  cloyed,  and  whose  powers 
of  digestion  have  been  enfeebled,  if  not  entirely  destroyed,  by 
feeding  on  the  pap  and  sweetmeats  of  most  of  the  popular 
authors  of  the  day.  Not  one  reader  in  a  thousand  who  pores 
with  delight  over  the  glittering  inanities  of  Bulwer,  or  the  vapid 
sentimentalities  of  James,  will  ever  venture  to  read  a  hundred 
lines  of  the  Paradise  Lost,  or  a  single  scene  of  Hamlet.  There  is 
a  craving  and  insatiable  appetite  for  novelty,  which  is  constantly 
increased  by  the  trash  it  feeds  on.  How  can  this  mental  mal- 
ady be  cured,  unless  it  be  by  forming  the  taste  and  judgment  of 
ine  youthful  student  by  a  careful  study  and  contemplation  of 
the  great  models  of  antiquity  ?  In  them  alone  do  we  find  that 
wonderful  artistic  perfection  which  the  moderns  have  attempted 
to  imitate  in  vain.  Homer  as  a  poet,  Demosthenes  as  an  orator, 
and  Thucydides  as  an  historian,  still  stand,  each  in  his  own 
department,  in  solitary  grandeur,  unrivaled  and  unapproachable. 
"  The  poems  of  Homer,"  says  Dr.  Johnson,  "  we  yet  know  not 
to  transcend  the  common  limits  of  human  intelligence,  but  by 
remarking  that  nation  after  nation,  and  century  after  century, 
has  been  able  to  do  little  more  than  transpose  his  incidents,  new 
name  his  characters,  and  paraphrase  his  sentiments.1' 

Reference  is  frequently  made,  by  those  who  take  the  opposite 
view  of  this  subject,  to  instances  of  what  are  called  self-made 
men,  for  the  purpose  of  proving  that  a  liberal  education  is  not 
an  essential  requisite  for  the  attainment  of  intellectual  distinc- 
tion. We  are  told  that  the  Bard  of  Avon  "  had  little  Latin,  and 
less  Greek  ; "  that  Robert  Burns  was  a  peasant ;  that  Pope  was 
the  best  Greek  scholar  of  his  age,  and  has  translated  the  sublime 
poetiy  of  Homer  into  English,  with  all  the  vigor  and  freshness 
of  the  original  ;  yet  he  never  was  inside  of  a  college.  All  this  is 
true;  and  other  examples  might  be  added  to  the  list.  But,  allow 
me  to  ask,  what  does  this  prove  against  the  correctness  of  the 
propositions  which  we  have  been  endeavoring  to  establish? 
'•/here  are  exceptions  to  all  general   rules,  and  one  of  the  most 


THE   LOST   SHIP.  6£ 

familiar  maxims  of  logic  is,  that  the  exception  proves  the  rule 
Now  that  we  meet  occasionally  with  a  mind  so  happil     organ 
ized,  and  endowed  with  such  a  degree  of  energy  and  wi  1,  as  to 
grapple   successfully  with   the   disadvantages  of  a  neglected   or 
stinted  education,  and  "  climb  the  steep  where   Fame's    proud 
emple  shines  afar,"  does  surely  not  prove  any  thing  agains    tho 
enefits  and   necessity  of  collegiate   instruction  and   discipli   v 
Besides,  who  ?nn  tell,  except  those  that  have  gone   through   the 
ordeal,  by  what  privation,  labor,  and   application  such   persons 
have  been  enabled  to  travel  over  the  rugged  paths  to  knowledge, 
and  thereby  provide  something  like  a  substitute   for   early  and 
regular  training  J     And  how  many  have  ever  been  successful  in 
the  attempt  ?     Not  one  in  ten  thousand. 


The  Lost  Ship.  —  Misa  Ma_ey  Ann  Lbs. 

The  moon's  fair  beams,  with  silver  hue, 
Had  faintly  tinged  the  waters  blue, 
When  o'er  the  ocean,  lone  and  vast, 
A  stately  ship  came  gliding  past, 
'jlad  hearts  she  bore  above  the  wave, 
That  soon  might  be  each  sailor's  grave  ; 
But  nought  of  danger,  death,  or  wrecK 
Thought  the  gay  crowd  that  thronged  her  deck. 

In  her  were  gathered  Indies  fair, 
And  aged  men  with  silver  hair, 
Youth  in  whose  veins  the  blood  beat  high, 
And  merrv  childhood's  laughing  eye. 
The  pilgrim  to  his  home  she  bore, 
The  wanderer  to  his  native  shore. 
The  hopes  of  all  were  lair  and  bright, 
The  hearts  of  all  beal  gay  and  light. 

And  when  at  length  they  sank  to  rest, 
Bright  dreams  of  home  their  pillows  blessed. 
Bui  oil;'  e  morning  brings  ; 

High  o'er  the  prow  the  dark  wave  springs; 
The  threatening  winds  blow  loud  and  high, 
As  through  the  darken  m  ihoy  fl v. 

All  day  they  fled  befon       i    I  \xa<  ; 
Their  rich  freight  to  the  waves  ,,iey  ca«t 


ROSS1??    SPEAKER 

Gone  from  each  lip  the  smile  and  jest, 
The  lightsome  spirit  from  each  breast 

Again  Night  her  black  curtain  drew 

Above  the  ocean  dark  ; 
Loud  and  more  loud  the  tempest  grew 

Around  the  gallant  bark. 
Her  sails  are  rent  by  the  fierce  blast, 
The  lightning's  flame  hath  singed  her  mast, 
The  billows  dash  against  her  prow : 
No  power  on  earth  can  save  her  now. 

His  eye,  aione,  who  raised  that  gloom, 
Saw  the  sad  vessel  meet  her  doom. 
But  when  the  morning's  golden  light 
Had  chased  the  shadows  of  the  night, 
AH  calm  and  quiet  smiled  the  scene 
Wnere  late  that  sinking  ship  had  been. 
And  lightly  danced  the  treacherous  wave 
Above  the  lovely  and  the  brave. 


Tell  me,  ye  Winged  Winds.  —  Chables  M&<tiat 

Tell  me,  ye  winged  winds, 

That  round  my  pathway  roar, 
Do  you  not  know  some  spot 

Where  mortals  weep  no  more  i 
Some  lone  and  pleasant  dell, 

Some  valley  m  the  West, 
Where,  free  from  toil  and  pain, 

The  weary  soul  may  rest  ? 
The  loud  wind  softened  to  a  whisper  low, 
And  sighed  for  pity  as  it  answered,  "  No  ! 

Tell  me,  thou  mighty  deep, 

Whose  billows  round  me  play, 
Know'st  thou  some  favored  spot, 

Some  island  far  away, 
Where  weary  man  may  find 

The  bliss  for  which  he  sigh9, 
Wpfire  sorrow  never  lives 

\nd  friendship  never  dies  ? 


EEEEC'IS   OF   IGNORANCE  AMONG   THE   MASSES      71 

The  loud  waves,  rolling  in  perpetual  flow, 
Stopped  for  a  while,  and  sighed  to  answer,  "  iNo . 

And  thou,  serenest  moon, 

That  with  such  holy  face 
Dt^t  look  upon  the  earth, 

Asleep  in  night's  embrace, 
Tell  me,  in  all  thy  round 

Hast  thou  not  seen  some  spo' 
Where  miserable  man 

Might  find  a  happier  lot  ? 
Behind  a  cloud  the  moon  withdrew  in  w  >e, 
And  a  voice  sweet,  but  sad,  responded,  "  Nu  T 

Tell  me,  my  secret  soul, 

O,  tell  me,  Hope  and  Faith, 
Is  there  no  resting-place 

From  sorrow,  sin,  and  death  ? 
Is  there  no  happy  spot, 

Where  mortals  may  be  blessed, 
Where  grief  may  find  a  balm, 
And  weariness  a  rest  ? 
Faith,  Hope,  and  Love  —  best  boons  to  mortals  given, 
Waved  their  bright  wings,  and  whispered, "  Yes,  in  heaven  ! ' 


Effects  of  Ignorance  among  the  Masses. 

C.  Roselius, 

What  are  the  amusements  of  the  ignorant  ?  They  must 
necessarily  consist,  and  be  limited,  in  a  great  measure,  to  the 
gratification  of  the  sensual  appetites,  the  inevitable  conscquei 
of  an  abuse  of  which  are  a  debilitated  body  and  a  depraved  he 
.\<-arly  all  the  avenues  to  the  higher  enjoyments  of  the  soul 
are  closed  nji  i<>  'he  ignorant  ,  they  look  with  a  vacant  stare  al 
the  wonderful  and  beautiful  works  of  an  all-wise  Creator;  their 
cannot  understandingly  behold  the  admirable  harmony  of 
nature  ;   nay,  th<  ngs  vouchsafed   to   man  — 

the  inestimable  c  on — can  not  be 

enjoyed  and  ap  the    same    extent    as    those 

whose  mental  ceptions  have  heen  awa- 

kened and  shar  .    nd  religious  training.      \- 

yet  we  hear  inti  alk  of  the  danger  of  over-edu 


72  ilOSS'S   SPEAKER. 

eating  the  people.  Let  me  ask,  What  would  become  of  our  lib- 
erty, our  aJm,Tr.ble  system  of  government,  and  our  glorious 
Union,  if  it  was  not  for  the  education  and  intelligence  of  the 
people  ?  Destroy  these,  and  the  beautiful  fabric  will  crumble 
into  dust,  and  like  "  an  insubstantial  pageant  faded,  leave  not  a 
rack  behind."  Look  at  the  pages  of  history ;  and  by  whose  in- 
strumentality has  human  freedom  been  invariably  crushed,  and 
despotism  and  oppression  established  in  its  place  ?  By  the  igno- 
rant masses  of  the  people,  led  on  by  designing  and  unscrupulous 
demigogues. 

Take,  as  an  illustration  of  this  position,  the  last  French  revolu- 
tion, or,  as  it  is  called,  the  coup  diktat  *  of  Louis  Napoleon  Bona- 
parte. Here  we  see*  the  president  of  a  republic,  elected  by  his 
fellow-citizens,  sworn  to  iupport  that  constitution  from  which 
alone  he  derived  his  power,  deliberately  commit  perjury,  murder, 
and  treason,  and  thereby  constitute  himself  the  master  of  the 
very  people  whose  servant  he  had  been  ;  and  the  stupid  populace 
shout,  and  assist  in  riveting  the  chains  by  which  they  are  en- 
slaved. Would  any  president  of  the  United  States,  however 
daring  and  ambitious  he  might  be,  ever  dream  of  such  an  act  of 
usurpation,  even  if  he  had  an  army  of  five  hundred  thousand 
soldiers  at  his  command  ?  Certainly  not ;  for  he  would  know 
that  the  majority  of  the  people  who  had  elevated  him  to  the  high- 
est office  in  their  gift  are  too  well  educated  and  too  intelligent  to 
be  made  tools  of  in  his  hands  for  the  destruction  of  their  own 
freedom  ;  that,  understanding  and  appreciating  their  liberty,  the 
first  act  of  usurpation  would  be  visited  by  the  most  condign  pun- 
ishment, not  by  the  assassin's  dagger,  but  by  the  awful  decree 
of  the  violated  majesty  of  the  law. 


A  Plea  for  the  Union .  —  0.  P.  Baldwin  , 

I  know,  fellow-citizens,  that  the  hour  is  dark ;  that  sectional 
passions  are  aroused  ;  and  that  the  future  seems  pregnant  with 
disastrous  results.  But  let  us  not  even  permit  ourselves  to  dream 
of  such  an  event  as  the  dissolution  of  the  Union.  Fraternal  love, 
forbearance,  reason  can  save  it,  when  even  wisdom  and  elo- 
quence would  be  of  no  avail.  Let  the  eyes  of  each  section  be 
no  longer  blind  to  the  virtues  and  open  to  the  faults  of  others. 
The  Frenchman  may  rise  against  his  government,  the  Hungari- 
an may  seek  10  tnrow  off  the  thralldom  of  Austria,  the  Polander 

*  Pi»iiouuced  coodartah. 


A   PLEA    FOlt   THE    UNION.  73 

may  struggle  to  regain  his  nationality;  but  if  we  permit  this 
Union  to  perish  until  every  constitutional  and  fraternal  remedy 
has  been  exhausted,  we  shall  present  the  first  example  in  the 
world's  history  of  a  people  who  were  rebels  against  themselves: 
who  were  satiated  with  the  sweets  of  liberty,  sick  of  peace,  and 
wearied  with  prosperity.  Never  have  a  people  been  blessed 
with  such  blessings  as  we  have  enjoyed  under  this  Union  ;  never 
have  a  people  been  cursed  with  such  curses  as  will  follow  its 
•Union.  Surely  it  cannot  be  that  all  our  endowments  of  civi! 
and  religious  liberty,  of  peace  and  plenty,  are  to  be  sacrificed  by 
the  madness  of  a  few  men  who  make  war  alike  upon  the  Bible 
and  the  constitution,  and  who  would  involve  in  the  same  ruin 
the  shrine  of  religion  and  the  ark  of  liberty. 

Surely  it  cannot  be  that,  as  Europe  is  slowly  advancing  in  na- 
tional freedom  by  the  light  of  our  example,  we  should  with  our 
own  hands  extinguish  the  beacon  fire  which  guides  a  world  on 
its  weary  way.  Did  your  footsteps  ever  wander  in  a  foreign 
land  ?  Doubtless  many  a  grand  and  impressive  object  you  there 
beheld  hallowed  by  the  moss  of  antiquity,  and  wreathed  with  a 
thousand  beautiful  associations.  Beneath  the  solemn  shades  of 
Westminster  Abbey,  on  the  immortal  field  of  Waterloo,  at  the 
foot  of  St.  Peter's  massive  pile,  upon  the  plains  of  Marathon, 
you  have  bowed  your  head  in  veneration  of  genius,  learning, 
piety,  and  valor.  You  have  beheld  many  a  gorgeous  spectacle 
of  wealth  and  greatness,  of  power  and  pomp;  but  tell  me,  among 
them  all,  did  you  ever  behold  a  sighi  that  so  stirred  the  deep 
foundations  of  your  heart,  and  senl  t!  I  boiling  with  proud 

emotion  through  every  vein,  as  when,  upon  some  lonely  sea, you 
met  one  of  your  national  vessels,  the  stars  and  stripes  of  your 
country  flowing  freely  out  over  the  frowning  battery  and  the 
mountain  wave 

An  I  shall  the  time  ever  arrive  when  you  musl  travel  through  the 
v>  ;Hd  and  meet  no  more  thai  flag:  when  neither  on  sea  nor  shore 
shall   it-.  "  n,  Icrer's  <■■■,  e  r   when 

the  American  shall  pass  through  Ihe  world  worse  than  an  orphan 
—  a  man  withoul  a  countr)  ?      Musi  I  ever  be  condemned  to 
that  the  national  structure  in  which  I  dwell  is  not   the  one  which 
built  by  the  ap  reedom,  -r.!<\  cemented 

martyrs?   not  the  one  of  which  Washinj 

laid  '  'id  of  which    .1'  and    Madison  were 

am'.  e  which  was  .llumed  b\ 

wisdom  thunder  <>f  a   I  (enry's  <  lo- 

quenc<  '  'd  upon  the  .yfounl  Zion  of 
our  America  learning  through  clo  ida 


74  ftOSS'S    SPEAKER. 

of  patriotic  incense  and  the  heaven-enkindled  air  of  freedom 
burning  forever  upon  its  shrine  ?  No,  not  this  temple,  but  some 
humbler  edifice,  without  an  altar  or  a  priest,  like  thai  in  whjou 
the  disconsolate  Jew  mourns  his  lost  Jerusalem,  and  hanging  his 
harp  upon  the  willow,  exclaims,  "  How  can  I  sing  the  Lord's  song 
in  a  strange  land"?  And  must  I  not  only  give  up  my  portion 
in  the  (lag  and  history  of  my  country,  but  must  I  yield  my  inter- 
ests in  any  of  the  consecrated  spots  of  this  loved  republic  ? 
Must  I  stand  on  Bunker  Hill  and  Lexington,  and  be  known  as  a 
foreigner  ?  Must  the  man  of  the  north  press  the  sod  of  Mount 
Vernon,  and  mournfully  exclaim,  "  This  is  no  longer  my  coun- 
try"? Must  the  world  relinquish  its  only  rallying  ground  of 
f"ee  principles  ? 

A  voice  rises  from  the  oppressed  millions  of  Europe  —  Take 
not  away  from  us  our  only  city  of  refuge  !  From  dungeon 
vaults,  and  from  the  ashes  of  holy  martyrs,  comes  a  cry  —  De- 
stroy not  the  home  of  religious  liberty !  From  the  ruins  of  an- 
cient republics  melancholy  notes  of  warning  float  on  every  breeze. 
From  the  battlements  of  heaven,  the  spirits  of  our  fathers  bend  in 
solicitude,  and  mourn — if  grief  can  enter  heaven  —  that  they 
have  00  human  tongue  to  arrest  our  mad  career. 


My  Lord  Tomnoddy.  —  London  Diogenes. 

My  Lord  Tomnoddy's  the  son  of  an  earl  ; 
His  hair  is  straight,  but  his  whiskers  curl  ; 
His  lordship's  forehead  is  far  from  wide, 
But  there's  plenty  of  room  for  the  brains  inside. 
He  writes  his  name  with  indifferent  ease  ; 
He  is  rather  uncertain  about  the  "  d's  ; " 
But  what  does  it  matter,  if  two,  or  one, 
To  the  Earl  of  Fitzdotterel's  eldest  son  ? 

My  Lord  Tomnoddy  to  college  went ; 
Much  time  he  lost,  much  money  he  spent ; 
Rules,  and  windows,  and  heads  he  broke  ; 
Authorities  winked  —  young  men  will  joke; 
He  never  peeped  inside  of  a  book; 
In  two  years'  time  a  degree  he  took  ; 
\nd  the  newspapers  vaunted  the  honors  won 
'iy  the  Earl  of  Fitzdotterel's  eldest  son. 


MILITARY   EDUCATION    IN    CIVIL   INSTITUTIONS     *r$ 

My  Lord  Tomnoddy  must  settle,  down  , 
There's  a  vacant  scat  in  the  family  town ; 
(It's  time  he  should  sow  his  eccentric  oats ;) 
He  hasn't  the  wit  to  apply  for  votes  , 
He  can  not  e'en  learn  his  election  speech ; 
Three  phrases  he  speaks  —  a  mistake  in  each  ! 
And  then  breaks  down  ;  but  the  borough  is  won 
For  the  Earl  of  Fitzdotterel's  eldest  son. 

My  Lord  Tomnoddy  prefers  the  Guards, 

(The  House  is  a  bore,)  so  it's  on  the  cards  ! 

My  lord  is  a  cornet  at  twenty-three, 

A  major  at  twenty-six  is  he  — 

He  never  drew  sword,  except  on  drill ; 

The  tricks  of  parade  he  has  learned  but  ill : 

A  lieutenant  colonel  at  thirty-one 

Is  the  Earl  of  Fitzdotterel's  eldest  son. 

My  Lord  Tomnoddy  is  thirty-four  ; 
The  earl  can  last  but  a  few  years  more. 
My  lord  in  the  peers  will  take  his  place  ; 
Her  majesty's  councils  his  words  will  grace. 
Office  he'll  hold,  and  patronage  sway; 
Fortunes  anil  lives  he  will  vote  away; 
And  what  are  his  qualifications  ?      One  — 
He's  the  Earl  of  Fitzdotterel's  eldest  son. 


Military  Education  in  Civil  Institutions. 

C.  G.  Fohshet,  Pres.of  Texas  Milit  "le, 

Tin-:  citizen  soldier  is  the  guardian  of  the  republic.  Freemen 
need  no  other  standing  army.  While  monarchies  are  sustained 
by   li'in  i  rhose   lives  arc   passed   in  idleness  or  in 

blood,  the  n  soldier  devotes  his  years  to  industry  and  cul 

.  to  domestic  happ  ind  to    public  enterprise.     Public 

education  should  therefore  be  conducted  under  military  dis- 
cipline, youth  will  ■■■■  .  with  pleasure  and  ■  ness, 
manhood  y  leam  at  all.  Ami  while  youthful 
fervor  and  zesl  o  s,  lei  the  citizen  soldier  have  '  ;s 
training. 

Mo  one  can  fail  to  npprove  the  influence  of  military  training 


76  KOSS'S   SJfEAKER. 

L.pon  nanners  and  movements.  There  :z  something  in  the  mere 
salutation  of  the  military  man  or  youth  that  every  one  who  wit- 
nesses approves.  His  bearing  is  open,  frank,  and  manly ;  his 
movement  dignified  and  graceful.  Bashfulness  and  diffidence 
never  betray  awkwardness ;  for  a  well-drilled  soldier  can  not  be 
awkward,  however  much  embarrassed  and  confused.  Give  us 
military  discipline,  then,  for  the  education  of  youth,  if  it  have  no 
furthei  object  than  to  aid  in  developing  manliness  of  character. 
Bui  i;  effects,  with  certainty,  what  is  so  often  neglected  —  the 
development  of  the  physical  powers  in  harmony  with  the  in- 
tellectual. 

How  often  have  we  seen,  from  the  neglect  of  physical  train- 
.ng,  the  student,  who  has  mastered  knowledge  by  years  of  study 
and  splendid  intellectual  achievement,  just  as  he  is  ready  to  enter 
upon  the  business  of  life,  and  apply  his  talents  and  learning  to 
useful  purposes,  find  his  physical  frame  exhausted,  and  after  a 
few  vain  struggles  to  restore  the  balance,  —  too  long  and  fatally 
neglected,  —  bow  down  to  the  relentless  destroyer,  Death.  His- 
tory is  full  of  examples.  We  all  have,  at  times,  been  called 
upon  to  grieve  the  untimely  ioss  of  such.  But  tears  come  too 
late,  alas !  for  those  that  are  gone.  Let  us  provide  a  better  edu- 
cation for  those  who  remain. 

And,  on  the  other  hand,  contemplate  the  mind  that  has  lain 
dormant  in  a  body  trained  to  physical  force  and  endurance  till 
the  will  and  the  passions  have  grown  strong  and  unmanagea- 
ble, till  the  animal  instincts  have  spread  their  branches,  in  dark 
and  poisonous  umbrage,  all  over  the  character ;  till  the  strong 
roots  and  vines  of  prejudice  and  superstition  have  lashed  fast  the 
slumbering  soul,  and  blight  and  mildew  have  dimmed  and 
blurred  its  capacities  to  spring  up  and  see  the  light.  In  spite  of 
all  his  physical  prowess,  our  very  Hercules  is  but  an  animal,  the 
compeer  of  horses  and  beasts  of  burden ;  and  at  highest, 
gladiator  for  the  Roman  arena,  the  antagonist  of  tigers,  the  con- 
queror of  a  lion  in  a  single  combat. 

No  training  could  redeem  such  a  soul ;  no  fascinations  of  art 
or  science,  no  allurements  of  intellectual  bliss,  or  flowers  of 
poesy,  or  harmonies  of  nature,  could  reclaim  it  to  a  life  of  men- 
tal joys  —  the  only  joys,  outside  religion,  worthy  the  attention 
of  a  human  mind.  I  shall  not  say  that  religion  can  not  reach  it; 
for  religion  has  the  capacity  to  grapple  with  our  instincts.  It 
-esides  in  and  appertains  to  the  department  of  the  sentiments,  in 
human  character  ;  and  God,  it  seems,  for  purposes  wiser  than 
man  can  deem,  adapted  it  to  reach  the  humblest  and  the  most 
degraded  character.     It  goes  where  education,  properly  speak- 


NO    GEOGRAPHICAL    PARTY.  7T 

tng,  can  not  reach,  and  awakens  and  illumines  with  a  hope  of 
heaven  the  soul  to  which  intellectual  education  has  no  possible 
access. 

Equally  repulsive  are  these  two  pictures ;  and  to  the  educator 
i>f  true   manhood,  freedom-loving  and  freedom-sustaining  man- 
hood, alike   impracticable  and  irreclaimable.     Can  we  not  avoid 
xtremes?  must  we  not?     Let  us  begin  in  youth. 

Lei  us  begin  to  educate  with  a  proper  balance  of  mental  and 
physical  discipline  Not  merely  to  instill  the  grammars,  geogra- 
s,  and  arithmetics  of  language,  though  these  have  their  proper 
place  ;  not  merely  to  teach  a  development  of  limb  and  muscle  in 
the  physical  system  —  and  this  itself  is  very  unusual  in  schools; 
but  let  us  commence,  from  ten  or  twelve  years  old,  to  treat  the 
mind  with  ideas  of  manly  republican  responsibility,  to  fill  it  with 
a  love  of  liberty  and  independence,  with  a  knowledge  of  our 
country's  history  and  its  institutions,  to  impress  upon  it  an  ap- 
preciation of  the  high  duties  that  await  the  rising  man.  And, 
moreover,  that  the  mind  may  have  an  expansion  and  liberality 
of  thought,  and  true  apprehension  of  the  great  laws  of  nature, 
let  it  be  taught,  from  this  moment  forward,  that  nature  works  by 
great,  uniform,  harmonious  laws,  and  that  man  may  take  for  his 
model  those  laws,  when  he  reasons  or  legislates  for  human 
rights.  Besides  the  ordinary  course  of  letters,  which  arc  essen- 
tial to  respectability  and  usefulness,  let  these  things  be  taught 
from  boyhood,  and  the  mind  will  have  a  manly  and  republican 
culture. 


No  Geographical  Part//. 

[From  the  letter  of  Ftufu9  Choate  to  the  Whigs  of  Boston,  by  whom  he   ra« 
elected  a  3tate  Convention, 

We   eleel    presidents,  governors,  and   members  of  Congress, 

-.1  deliver  written  lectures  to  assenting  audiences  of  laaies 

and  ihe 

of  pract  manshi] 

ihe  i  ";'''  political  sj at<  m,  and  the  I 

world.     Let   us,  at   least,  then   know 
their  politic 

lv  .  we  do   kn  iw  that 

pari  •  'Hi  is,  i  of  all 

vphical  party.     What  argument  aj  i  in  we 

ad  I  to  this  is  to  be  made  «  hcii  V  >s 

D  * 


78  ROSS'S    SPEAKER. 

necessary.  If  it  is  not  necessary,  it  is,  like  war  too,  a  trem^ndouf 
and  uncompensated  evil.  When  it  shall  have  become  necessary, 
the  eternal  separation  will  have  begun.  That  time,  that  end,  is 
not  yet.  Let  us  not  hasten,  and  not  anticipate  it,  by  so  rash  an 
innovation  as  this. 

Parties  in  this  country  heretofore  have  helped,  not  delayed,  the 
slow  and  difficult  growth  of  a  consummated  nationality.  Our 
discussions  have  been  sharp ;  the  contests  for  honor  and  power 
keen  ;  the  disputes  about  principles  and  measures  hot  and  pro- 
longed. But  it  was  in  our  country's  majestic  presence  that  we 
contended.  It  was  from  her  hand  that  we  solicited  the  prize. 
Whoever  lost  or  won,  we  loved  her  better.  Our  allies  were 
every  where.  There  were  no  Alleghanies  nor  Mississippi  Rivers 
in  our  politics. 

Such  was  the  felicity  of  our  condition,  that  the  very  dissen- 
sions which  rent  small  republics  in  twain  welded  and  compacted 
the  vast  fabric  of  our  own.  Does  he  who  would  substitute  for 
this  form  of  conducting  our  civil  differences  a  geographical  party, 
completely  understand  his  own  work  ?  Does  he  consider  how 
vast  an  educational  instrumentality  the  party  life  and  influence 
compose  ?  Does  he  forget  how  the  public  opinion  of  a  people  is 
created,  and  that  when  created  it  determines  their  history?  All 
party  organization  tends  towards  faction.  This  is  its  evil.  But 
it  is  inseparable  from  free  government.  To  choose  his  political 
connection  aright  is  the  most  delicate  and  difficult  duty  of  the 
citizen.  We  have  made  our  choice,  and  we  abide  by  it.  We 
join  ourselves  to  no  party  that  does  not  carry  the  flag  and  keep 
step  to  the  music  of  the  Union. 


Shall  our  Laurels  wither?  —  A.  P.  Harcourt, 

From  France  and  England  America  can  expect  nothing. 
Should  our  internal  commotions  and  sectional  animosities  once 
carry  our  nation  to  the  verge  of  disunion  and  certain  destruction, 
we  can  look  for  no  conciliatory  interference  on  the  part  of  these 
craft)  powers.  We  are  now  already  disunited  in  sentiment  ;  and 
the  harmony  and  brotherly  feeling,  that  were  wont  to  prevail,  no 
!■  nger  manifest  themselves, as  of  yore,  in  a  love  of  our  great  and 
flourishing  republic  —  in  a  determination  to  stand  by  the  Union 
and  our  star-lit  banner,  when  invaded  and  attacked  by  traitors 
•'mm  within  and  foes  from  without;  oui  hearts  have  grown  cold, 
a  cloud  is  on  our  brow,  and  we  are  not  prepared  for  the  corning 
storm. 


THE    SOXU   OF   STEAM.  79 

Already  has  the  war  whoop  been  raised  by  the  crowned  heads 
of  Europe,  and  the  cry  has  gone  forth,  that  the  great  luminary 
of  the  western  world  is  on  the  wane ;  that  he.  light  in  the 
political  heavens  is  beginning  to  grow  dim;  that  soon  she  will 
sink  into  eternal  gloom,  never,  never  to  rise  again.  Shall  it  be  ? 
Shall  the  eagle  be  stopped  in  his  lofty  flight  ?  Proud  bird  !  shall 
they  tear  from  thee  thy  plumage  ?  Shall  they  piuck  from  thee 
that  quill  that  is  to  record  on  the  scroll  of  time  great  America's 
fall  f      Shall  our  laurels  wither  ?    Forbid  it,  Almighty  God  ! 

Forbid  that  the  flag  of  a  Warren,  the  martyr,  —  of  a  Wash- 
ington, the  hero,  the  sage,  the  patriot,  —  that  the  flag  which  first 
ed  to  the  breeze  from  the  heights  of  Bunker's  Hill,  and 
which  afterward  streamed  aloft  from  over  Independence  Hall, 
and  which  now  waves  over  twenty  millions  of  people,  the  lights 
of  the  habitable  globe,  —  forbid  that  it  should  ever  be  lowered  to 
a  foreign  foe ;  but  if  it  must  be  lowered,  if  it  must  be  struck, 
at  God  forbid  that  it  should  be  by  a  parricidal  hand  ;  rather 
lei  it  be  by  some  Philip  —  ay,  a  Xerxes  with  his  million  of  men  ; 
but  ere,  then,  it  shall  fall,  Americans  !  —  yes,  you  Kontuckians !  — 
let  us  gather  around  the  venerable  staff,  and  as  each  raises  his 
right  hand  to  heaven,  and  clasps  the  llowing  folds  with  his  left,  let 
us  swear  our  laurels  shall  never  wither. 


The  Song  of  Steam.  —  American  oroak. 

Harness  me  down  with  your  iron  bands  ; 

Be  sure  of  your  curb  and  rein  ; 
For  I  scorn  the  power  of  your  puny  bauds, 

As  the  tempesl  scorns  a  chain. 

How  1  laughed,  as  1  lay  concealed  from  sight 

For  many  a  countless  hour, 
At  the  childish  boast  of  human  might, 

And  the  j.nde  of  human  power  ! 

When   |  aaw  an  annv  upon  the  land, 

A   navy  upon  the  seas, 
Creeping  along,  a  snail-like  hand, 

<  )i  waiting  the  wayward  breeze  ; 
When  I  marked  the  pi  at  inl  faintl)  re 

With  the  toil  which  he  daily  hore, 
As  he  feebly  turned  the  tardy  wheel, 

Or  tugged  at  the  weary  oar;  — 


g(|  ROSS'S    SPEAKER. 

When  I  measured  the  panting  courser's  speed, 

The  flight  of  the  courier  dove, 
As  they  bore  the  law  a  king  decreed, 

Or  the  lines  of  impatient  love,  — 
I  could  not  but  think  how  the  world  would  feel. 

As  these  were  outstripped  afar, 
When  I  should  be  bound  to  the  rushing  keel, 

Or  chained  to  the  flying  car. 

Ha,  ha,  ha  !  they  found  me  at  last ; 

They  invited  me  forth  at  length ; 
And  I  rushed  to  my  throne  with  a  thunder  blast. 

And  laughed  in  my  iron  strength. 
0,  then  ye  saw  a  wondrous  change 

On  the  earth  and  the  ocean  wide, 
Where  now  my  fiery  armies  range, 

Nor  wait  for  wind  or  tide. 

Hurrah  !  hurrah  !  the  waters  o'er, 

The  mountains  steep  decline  ; 
Time,  space,  have  yielded  to  my  power ; 

The  world,  the  world  is  mine  ; 
The  rivers  the  sun  hath  earliest  blessed, 

Or  those  where  his  beams  decline ; 
The  giant  streams  of  the  queenly  west, 

Or  the  orient  floods  divine. 

The  ocean  pales,  where'er  I  sweep, 

To  hear  my  strength  rejoice, 
And  the  monsters  of  the  briny  deep 

Cower,  trembling,  at  my  voice. 
[  carry  the  wealth  and  the  lord  of  the  earth, 

The  thoughts  of  his  godlike  mind  ; 
The  wind  lags  after  my  flying  breath, 

The  lightning  is  left  behind. 

In  the  darksome  depths  of  the  fathomless  mine 

My  tireless  arm  doth  play, 
Where  the  rocks  never  saw  the  sun  decline, 

Or  the  dawn  of  the  glorious  day. 
I  bring  earth's  glittering  jewels  up 

From  the  hidden  cave  below, 
And  I  make  the  fountain's  granite  cup 

With  a  crystal  gush  o'erflow. 


INDEPENDENCE   MONUMENT.  81 

I  blow  the  jellows,  I  forge  the  steel, 

In  all  the  shops  of  trade; 
I  hammer  the  ore  and  turn  the  wheel, 

Where  my  arms  of  strength  are  made  ; 
(  manage  the  furnace,  the  mill,  the  mint; 

1  carry,  I  spin,  I  weave  ; 
And  all  my  doings  I  put  into  print, 

On  every  morn  and  eve. 

I've  no  muscle  to  weary,  no  breast  to  decay, 

Xo  bone  to  be  "  laid  on  the  shelf," 
And  soon  1  intend  you  may  "  go  and  play," 

While  I  manage  this  world  myself. 
But  harness  me  down  with  your  iron  bands  ; 

Be  sure  of  your  curb  and  rein  ; 
For  I  scorn  the  strength  of  your  puny  hands, 

As  the  tempest  scorns  a  chain. 


Independence  Monument.  —  Kenneth  Rather. 

'  >n  the  bill  to  "  aid  in  the  erection  of  a  monument  commemorative  of 
:he  declaration  of  American  independence,"  in  the  Senate  of  North 
( 'arolina, 

The  erection  of  this  monument  in  Independence  Square   will 
strengthen  and  confirm  in  the  minds  of  our  people  the  consecra- 
tion of  a  spot  already  hallowed   in  the   hearts  and  affections  of 
every  lover  of  liberty  in  this  land.      Every  one  of  those   moral 
and    intellectual    giant-,    who  there   presided    over   our   nation's 
birth,  is  *_r- m ic*  to  the  spirit  land.      But  their  names  and  their  mem- 
"d  as  time  rolls  on,  the  mythic  legends  of  a  distant 
future   will    associate  their   self-sacrificing   achievements,   theii 
.  and  their  crowning  triumph,  with  the  idea  of 
inspiration  an  1  of  aid  from  on  high.     The  golden  fruits  of  that 
atiful    harvest,  'he  seeds  of  which  were  sown  by  their  hands, 
ire  now  reaping.     The  extension  of  our  country's  limits;  the 
rapid  pr<  iur  civilization,  our  freedom,  our  religion,  and 

our   laws;   the   triumphs   of  our  arms;   the   advancement    ol 
commerce;  our  wonderful  improvements  in  literature,  in  a 
and  in  indu  enterprise;    in  fact,  the  teeming  wealth,  and 

luxury,  and  comfort  of  our  hound1'        •   ources,  and  the  number- 
ess  blessings  with  which  kind  Heaven  has  favored  us,  —  for  the 


S*2  KOSS  S   SPEAKER. 

germ  and  development  of  all  these  revolutionary  benefactors, 
who  appealed  to  Heaven  for  the  rectitude  of  their  intentions, 
uttered  the  "  declaration,"  Let  this  nation  be  free ;  and  lo,  it  was 
free  !  Sir,  can  we,  their  posterity,  feel  gratitude  warm  enough 
to  requite  the  boon  they  bequeathed  us  ?  Can  we  speak  in  lan- 
guage glowing  enough  to  duly  sound  their  praise  ?  Can  we  build 
monuments  high  enough  to  tell  the  story  of  their  deeds  ? 

But  what  we  can  do  let  us  do.  Let  us,  in  conjunction  with  our 
sister  states  of  the  Old  Thirteen,  —  whose  classic  soil  was  bedewci  1 
with  the  blood  of  the  martyrs  of  freedom,  and  in  whose  soil  now 
rest  their  nallowed  remains,  —  let  us  erect  this  monument  on  the 
site  of  our  political  Bethlehem,  from  whence  were  first  heralded 
the  glad  tidings  of  our  national  salvation,  from  whence  first 
went  forth  the  warning  to  tyrants,  and  the  assurance  to  the  op- 
pressed of  the  nations,  that  liberty  was  man's  right,  and  to  assert 
it  was  his  duty.  There  let  it  stand  till  time  shall  be  no  more. 
In  its  massive  strength,  let  it  be  emblematic  of  the  hardy  vigor 
and  unterrified  determination  of  those  whose  names  may  be 
inscribed  on  its  shaft.  Let  its  peerless  beauty  reflect  the  purity 
of  their  motives  and  the  devotion  of  their  hearts.  Let  its  heaven- 
ward pointed  summit  represent  the  lofty  aspirations  of  their 
souls,  and  suggest  to  the  beholder  the  place  of  their  reward  and 
final  rest. 


The  Same,  concluded. 

The  moral  influence  of  such  a  structure,  reared  by  the  joint 
and  voluntary  contributions  of  the  Old  Thirteen,  can  not  fail  to 
exercise  a  moral  influence  potent  for  good,  after  we  shall  be  no 
more.  It  will  symbolize  the  union  of  these  states,  will  present  a 
physical  illustration  of  our  national  motto,  "  E  Pluribus  Unum," 
and  stand  as  a  warning  to  disunionists  and  agitators,  that  the  fab- 
ric of  our  Union,  elaborated  from  the  wisdom  of  revolutionary 
sages,  and  cemented  by  the  blood  of  revolutionary  heroes,  shah 
never  fall  a  victim  to  their  parricidal  hands.  It  will  be  an  object 
of  pilgrimage  for  the  lovers  of  liberty  and  union  in  our  country 
through  all  future  time,  keeping  alive  in  the  hearts  of  our  people 
the  glorious  associations  of  our  past  history,  and  fostering  the 
impulses  :>f  patriotism,  when  they  shall  begin  to  wane.  It  will 
tend  to  inspire  with  patriotic  sentiments  the  youth  of  our  country ; 
to  admonish  them  of  the  price  at  which  our  national  freedom  was 
purchased ;  to  excite  an  emulation  in  deeds  of  high  and  noblo 


THE   WILL.  83 

daring,  and  at  the  same  time  to  sanctify  the'u*  ambition  :  and  to 
teach  them  the  glorious  rewards  which  a  grateful  posterity  ia 
w  i.ing  to  bestow  upon  deeds  of  disinterested  self-sacrifice  and 
devotion  by  the  benefactors  of  their  country. 

Sir,  my  humble  task  is  done.  I  appeal  to  this  Senate,  as  the 
representatives  and  guardians  of  North  Carolina's  pride,  her  honor 
and  her  patriotism,  not  to  let  our  state  be  the  last  to  concur  in 
this  praiseworthy  movement.  Above  all,  let  it  never  be  said  of 
us,  that  we  are  so  deficient  in  patriotic  pride,  so  insensible  to  the 
memory  of  the  past,  as  to  refuse  to  concur  in  this  -;ea.r:-stirring 
design.  What  must  be  the  feeling  of  every  true-hearted  son  of 
the  old  North  State,  who  may  in  the  future  visit  Philadelphia,  and 
from  curiosity,  if  from  no  higher  impulse,  he  shall  visit  this  mon- 
ument ;  he  there  sees  the  names  of  every  other  of  the  old  thirteen 
states  inscribed  in  letters  of  glory  on  its  sides,  with  the  names 
of  those  who  echoed  their  appeal  to  the  God  of  battle,  in  the 
immortal  Declaration  of  Independence ;  but  he  shall  search  in 
vain  for  the  name  of  this  state,  who  sent  her  Nashes  and  Cas 
wells,  her  Davies  and  Polks,  her  Grahams  and  Davidsons,  to  lead 
the  hosts  of  freedom  in  our  struggles  for  independence  —  and 
the  names  of  Hooper,  Hughes,  and  Penn,  who  spoke  her  senti- 
ments in  the  days  of  peril,  will  fail  to  greet  his  vision.  God 
forbid  such  a  reproach  as  this  should  rest  on  the  name  of  that 
state  which  I  love  so  well. 


The  Will. —  A  Dialogue.—  a*oh. 

Character*.  —  Swipes,  a  brewer ,  Currie,  a  saddler  ;  Fraick  Millinotoic, 

and  'Squire  Drawl. 

Swipes.  A  sober  occasion,  this,  brother  Currie.  Who  would 
have  thought  the  old  lady  was  so  near  her  end  ? 

Currie.  Ah,  we  must  all  die,  brother  Swipes ;  and  ihose  who 
liv*»  longest   outlive  the  most. 

Swipes.  True,  true  ;  but  since  we  must  die  and  leave  nur 
earthly  possessions,  it  is  well  that  the  law  takes  such  good  care 
of  us.     Had  the  old  lady  her  senses  when  she  departed  ? 

Cur.  Perfectly,  perfectly.  'Squire  Drawl  told  me  she  read 
every  word  of  the  will  aloud,  and  never  :;igncd  her  name  better 

Snipes.  Had  you  any  hint  from  the  'Squire,  what  disposTor 
the  made  of  her  property  ? 

Cut.      Not  a    vhisu'-T  ;   the  'Squire    is   as   close    as   an    under- 


84  KOSS'8  SPEAKER. 

ground  tomb  :  but  one  of  the  witnesses  hinted  to  me  that  she  had 
cut  off  her  graceless  nephew  Frank  without  a  shilling. 

Swipes.  Has  she,  good  soul.  —  has  she  ?  You  know  I  come 
in,  then,  in  right  of  my  wife. 

Cur.  And  I  in  my  own  right ;  and  this  is  no  doubt  the  reason 
why  we  have  been  called  to  hear  the  reading  of  the  will.  'Squire 
Drawl  knows  how  things  should  be  done,  though  he  is  as  air-tight 
as  one  of  your  beer  barrels.  But  here  comes  the  young  repro- 
bate. He  must  be  present,  as  a  matter  of  course,  you  know 
(Enter  Frank  Millington.)  Your  servant,  young  gentleman. 
So  your  benefactress  has  left  you,  at  last. 

Swipes.  It  is  a  painful  thing  to  part  with  old  and  good  friends, 
Mr.  Millington. 

Frank.  It  is  so,  sir  ;  but  I  could  bear  her  loss  better,  had  I 
not  so  often  been  ungrateful  for  her  kindness.  She  was  my  only 
friend,  and  I  knew  not  her  value. 

Cur.  It  is  too  late  to  repent,  Master  Millington.  You  will 
now  have  a  chance  to  earn  your  own  bread. 

Swipes.  Ay,  ay,  by  the  sweat  of  your  brow,  as  better  people 
arc  obliged  to.  You  would  make  a  fine  brewer's  boy,  if  you 
were  not  too  old. 

Cur.     Ay,  or  a  saddler's  lackey,  if  held  with  a  tight  rein. 

Frank.  Gentlemen,  your  remarks  imply  that  my  aunt  has 
treated  me  as  I  deserved.  I  am  above  your  insults,  and  only 
hope  you  will  bear  your  fortune  as  modestly  as  I  shall  mine  sub- 
missively.    I  shall  retire.     (Going,  he  meets  'Squire  Drawl.) 

'Squire.  Stop,  stop,  young  man.  We  must  have  your  pres- 
ence.    Good  morning,  gentlemen  ;  you  are  early  on  the  ground. 

Cur.     I  hope  the  'Squire  is  well  to-day. 

''Squire.     Pretty  comfortable,  for  an  invalid. 

Swipes.     I  trust  the  damp  air  has  not  affected  your  lungs  again. 

'Squire.  No,  I  believe  not.  But  since  the  heirs  at  law  are 
all  convened,  I  shall  now  proceed  to  open  the  last  will  and  testa- 
ment of  your  deceased  relative,  according  to  law. 

Swipes.  ( While  the  'Squire  is  breaking  the  seal.)  It  is  a  try- 
ing thing  to  leave  all  one's  possessions,  'Squire,  in  this  manner. 

Cur.  It  really  makes  me  feel  melancholy,  when  I  look  round 
and  see  every  thing  but  the  venerable  owner  of  these  goods. 
Well  did  the  Preacher  say,  "  All  is  vanity." 

'Squire.  Please  to  be  seated,  gentlemen.  (He  puts  on  his 
spectacles,  and  begins  to  read  slowly.)  "  Imprimis :  whereas  my 
nephew,  Francis  Millington,  by  his  disobedience  and  ungrateful 
conduct,  has  shown  himself  unworthy  of  my  bounty,  and  inca- 
pable of  managing  my  large  estate,  I  do  hereby   give  and  f» 


THE   WILL.  85 

queath  all  my  houses,  farms,  stocks,  bonds,  moneys,  and  proper- 
ty, both  personal  and  real,  to  my  dear  cousins,  Samuel  Swipes, 
of  Malt  Street,  brewer,  and  Christopher  Currie,  of  Fly  Court, 
saddler."     (The  ''Squire  takes  of  his  spectacles,  to  wipe  them.) 

Swipes.  Generous  creature  !  Kind  soul !  I  always  loved 
her. 

Cur.  She  was  good,  she  was  kind  ;  and,  brother  Swipes, 
when  we  divide,  I  think  I'll  take  the  mansion  house. 

Swipes.  Not  so  fast,  if  you  please,  Mr.  Currie.  My  wife 
has  long  had  her  eye  upon  that,  and  must  have  it. 

Cur.  There  will  be  two  words  to  that  bargain,  Mr.  Swipes 
And,  besides,  I  ought  to  have  the  first  choice.  Did  1  not  lend 
her  a  new  chaise  every  time  she  wished  to  ride  ?  And  who 
knows  what  influence  — 

Swipes.  Am  I  not  named  first  in  her  will  ?  and  did  I  not  fur- 
nish her  with  my  best  small  beer  for  more  than  six  months  ? 
and  who  knows  — 

Frank.     Gentlemen,  I  must  leave  you.     (Going.) 

''Squire.     (Putting  on  his  spectacles  very  deliberately.)     Pray 
gentlemen,  keep  your  seats  ;  I  have  not  done  yet.     Let  me  see  ; 
where  was  I  ?     Ay,  "All  my  property,  both  personal  and  real, 
to  my  dear  cousins,  Samuel  Swipes,  of  Malt  Street,  brewer,"  — 

Swipes.     Yes ! 

'Squire.     "  And  Christopher  Currie,  of  Fly  Court,  saddler,"  — 

Cur.     Yes ! 

'Squire.  "  To  have  and  to  hold,  in  trust,  for  the  sole  and 
exclusive  benefit  of  my  nephew,  Francis  Millington,  until  he 
shall  have  attained  the  age  of  twenty-one  years  ;  by  which  time 
I  hope  he  will  have  so  far  reformed  his  evil  habits  as  that  he  may 
safely  be  intrusted  with  the  large  fortune  which  I  hereby  be- 
queath to  him." 

Swipes.  What's  all  this  ?  You  don't  mean  that  we  are  hum- 
ougged  ?     In  trust  !     How  does  that  appear  ?     Where  is  it  ? 

'Squire.  There  ;  in  two  words  of  as  good  old  English  as  I 
ever  penned. 

Cur.  Pretty  well  too,  Mr.  'Squire,  if  we  must  be  sent  for  to 
be  made  a  laughing  stock  of.  She  shall  pay  for  every  ride  she 
has  had  out  of  my  chaise,  I  promise  you. 

Swipes.  And  for  every  drop  of  my  beer.  Fine  times,  if 
two  sober,  hard-working  citizens  are  to  be  brought  here  to  be 
made  the  sport  of  a  graceless  profligate !  Rut  we  will  manage 
nis  property  for  him,  Mr.  Currie  ;  we  will  make  him  feel  that 
trustees  are  not  to  be  trifled  with. 

Cut.     That  we  will. 


66  ROSS'S   SPEAKER. 

'Squire.  Not  s_>  fast,  gentlemen  ;  for  the  instrument  is  dated 
three  years  ago  and  the  young  gentleman  must  be  already  of 
age,  and  able  to  take  care  of  himself.     Is  it  not  so,  Francis  ? 

Frank.     It  is,  your  worship. 

'Squire.  Then,  gentlemen,  having  attended  to  the  breaking 
of  the  seal,  according  to  law,  you  are  released  from  any  further 
trouble  about  the  business. 


The  American  Government.  —  H.  w.  huxiard, 

Separated  from  the  systems  of  the  old  world  by  the  Atlan- 
tic, conscious  of  their  responsibility,  profoundly  acquainted 
with  the  events  of  history,  and  with  its  ancient  and  modern  illus- 
trations all  before  their  eyes,  the  men  who  undertook  the  task  of 
erecting  a  new  government  brought  to  it  the  noblest  qualities. 
They  presented  a  sublime  spectacle.  History  describes  upon 
none  of  its  pages  such  a  scene.  Other  governments  had  grown 
up  under  circumstances  whose  imperious  pressure  gave  them 
their  peculiar  forms,  and  they  had  been  modified  from  time  to 
time,  to  keep  pace  with  an  advancing  civilization ;  but  here  was 
a  government  created  by  men  emancipated  from  all  foreign  in- 
fluence, and  who,  in  their  deliberations,  acknowledged  r.o  supreme 
authority  but  that  of  God. 

States  already  republican  and  independent  were  formed  into 
a  confederation,  and  the  great  principles  of  the  government  were 
embodied  in  a  Constitution.  The  Union  then  established  has 
ever  since  existed.  Under  its  protection  we  have  grown  from 
weakness  to  strength.  Our  wealth,  our  population,  and  our  pow- 
er have  steadily  advanced ;  and  to-day  we  hold  an  undisputed 
empire  over  a  territory  stretching  from  the  St.  Lawrence  to  the 
Gulf  of  Mexico ;  and  the  sparse  population  which,  when  the 
government  was  formed,  fringed  the  Atlantic  coast,  has  spread 
:tself  westward,  the  Rocky  Mountains  have  been  passed,  and  the 
laws,  the  letters,  the  traditions,  and  the  religion  of  the  colonists 
are  seated  upon  the  shores  of  the  Pacific. 

Our  progress  has  more  than  transcended  that  of  the  fabled 
god  of  the  ancients,  who,  beginning  his  morning  journey  in  the 
east,  drove  his  flaming  chariot  through  the  sky,  until  he  dipped 
his  glowing  axle  in  the  western  waves.  Behind  us  have  sprung 
up  all  the  blessings  of  a  high  civilization  ;  nor  will  they  disap- 
pear beneath  the  waves  of  that  placid  ocean  which  we  have 
'■cached  in  our  march.     There  they  will   grow  and   flourish   anr 


THE   ILLUSTRIOUS   TRIO   OF   STATESMEN.  81 

their  kindling  lustre  will  spread  over  the  Polynesian  Islands,  and 
gild  the  distant  shores  of  Asia  with  a  richer  and  purer  splendor 
than  they  have  ever  enjoyed  before.         *         *         * 

We  are  yet  in  the  freshness  of  our  youth  ;  our  country,  the 
latest  born  of  the  great  nations,  is  like  the  youngest  daughter  of 
King  Lear,  the  fairest  of  the  sisters  : 

"  Ah,  mayst  thou  ever  be  what  now  thou  art, 
Nor  unbeseem  the  promise  of  thy  spring." 

The  horoscope  which  shone  so  resplendently  over  thy  birth,  0 
my  country,  announced  a  glorious  destiny.  We  have  witnessed 
its  grand  fulfilment.  Berkeley's  vision,  revealed  in  poetic  meat* 
ures,  is  fully  realized  — 

"  Time's  noblest  offspring  is  the  last." 

A  powerful  nation,  in  the  full  vigor  of  her  youth,  unfurls  the 
banner  of  freedom,  and  its  mighty  folds  float  over  a  continent. 
Thrown  out  at  first  against  a  stormy  sky,  and  in  defiance  of  ty- 
rants, it  is  bathed  to-day  in  the  light  of  peace ;  the  eyes  of  all 
mankind  are  fixed  upon  it  as  the  sign  of  hope.  Shall  it  be  rent 
asunder  ?  Shall  its  stars  be  quenched  and  its  folds  droop  ?  ShaK 
it  live  in  the  memory  of  mankind  only  as  the  sign  of  fallen  pow- 
er and  departed  glory  ?  No  !  No,  let  it  float  forever,  the  stan- 
dard of  a  republic  the  proudest,  the  happiest,  the  greatest  which 
the  world  has  ever  beheld. 

Let  the  sun,  as  he  rises  out  of  the  Atlantic  wave,  gild  it  with 
his  morning  beam ;  let  him  throw  his  parting  splendor  upon  it  as 
he  sinks  beneath  the  placid  waters  of  the  Pacific,  its  gorgeous 
folds  still  streaming  with  undiminished  lustre  over  states  free, 
powerful,  and  prosperous,  associated  in  a  Union  as  indissoluble 
as  it  is  glorious 


The  Illustrious  Trio  of  Statesmen.  — H.  w.HrLLiARD, 

As  an  Orator,  Mr.  Clay  stood  unrivalled  among  the  states- 
men of  our  times  ;  and  if  the  power  of  a  statesman  is  to  be 
measured  by  the  control  which  he  exerts  over  an  audience,  he 
will  take  rank  among  the  most  illustrious  men  who,  in  ancient 
or  modern  times,  have  decided  great  questions  by  resistless  elo- 
quence. 

Mr.  Calhoun  was  the  finest  type  of  the  pure  Greek  intellect 
which  this  country  has  ever  produced.  His  speeches  resemble 
Grecian  sculpture,  with  all   the   purity  and   hardness  of  marble 


ft£  ROSS'S   SPEAKER. 

wlile  tney  show  that  the  chisel  was  guided  by  the  hand  of  a 
master.  Demosthenes  transcribed  the  history  of  Thucydides 
eight  times,  that  he  might  acquire  the  strength  and  majesty  of 
his  style,  and  Mr.  Calhoun  had  evidently  studied  the  orations  of 
the  great  Athenian  with  equal  fidelity.  He  had  much  of  his 
force  and  ardor,  and  his  bearing  was  so  full  of  dignity  that  it  was 
easy  to  fancy,  when  you  heard  him,  that  you  were  listening  to 
an  oration  from  the  lips  of  a  Roman  senator  who  had  formed 
his  style  in  the  severe  schools  of  Greece. 

Mr.  Webster's  oratory  reaches  the  highest  pitch  of  grandeur. 
He  combines  the  pure  philosophical  faculty  of  investigation,  which 
characterized  the  Greek  mind,  with  the  athletic  power  and  ma- 
jesty which  belonged  to  the  Roman  style.  There  is  in  his  orations 
a  blended  strength  and  beauty  surpassing  any  thing  to  be  found 
in  ancient  or  modern  productions.  He  stands  like  a  statue  of 
Hercules  wrought  out  of  gold.  He  has  been  sometimes  called 
the  Demosthenes  of  this  country  ;  but  the  attributes  which  he  dis- 
played are  not  those  which  belonged  to  the  Athenian  orator. 
His  speeches  display  the  same  power  and  beauty,  and  equal,  if 
they  do  not  surpass,  in  consummate  ability,  the  noblest  orations 
of  Demosthenes  ;  but  he  wants  the  vehemence,  the  boldness,  the 
impetuosity  of  the  orator  who  wielded  the  fierce  democracy  of 
Athens  at  his  will,  and  who,  in  his  impassioned  harangues,  "  shook 
the  Arsenal,  and  fulmined  over  Greece." 

Mr.  Clay's  oratory  differed  from  that  of  Mr.  Webster  and  of 
Mr.  Calhoun,  and  it  was  more  effective  than  that  of  either  of  his 
contemporaries.  Less  philosophical  than  the  one,  and  less  ma- 
jestic than  the  other,  he  surpassed  them  both  in  the  sway  which 
he  exerted  over  the  assemblies  which  he  addressed.  Clear,  con- 
vincing, impassioned,  and  powerful,  he  spoke  the  language  of 
truth  in  its  most  commanding  tones,  and  the  deductions  of  reason 
uttered  from  his  lips  seemed  to  have  caught  the  glow  of  inspira- 
tion.        *         *         * 

He  realized  Mr.  Webster's  description  of  oratory  :  "  The  clear 
conception  outrunning  the  deductions  of  logic  ;  the  high  purpose  ■ 
the  firm  resolve ;  the  dauntless  spirit,  speaking  on  the  tongue, 
beaming  from  the  eye,  informing  every  feature,  and  urging  the 
whole  man  onward,  right  onward,  to  his  object :  this,  this  is  elo- 
quence ;  or,  rather,  it  is  something  greater  and  higher  than  all 
eloquence  ;  it  is  action  —  noble,  sublime,  godlike  action." 


WI.IJ.IAM   TELL   AMONG   THE   MOUNTAINS.  89 


William  Tell  among-  the  Mountains.— J.  s.  Kwowm» 

Ye  crags  and  peaks,  I'm  with  you  once  again ! 
I  hold  to  you  the  hands  you  first  beheld, 
To  show  they  still  are  free.     Methinks  I  hear 
A  spirit  in  your  echoes  answer  me, 
And  bid  your  tenant  welcome  to  his  home 
Again !  —  O  sacred  forms,  how  proud  you  look  ! 
How  high  you  lift  your  heads  into  the  sky ! 
How  huge  you  are  !  how  mighty,  and  how  free  ! 
Ye  are  the  "things  that  tower,  that  shine ;  whose  smile 
Makes  glad,  whose  frown  is  terrible,  whose  forms, 
Robed  or  unrobed,  do  all  the  impress  wear 
Of  awe  divine.     Ye  guards  of  liberty, 
I'm  with  you  once  again  !  —  I  call  to  you 
With  all  my  voice  !  — I  hold  my  hands  to  you, 
To  show  they  still  are  free.     I  rush  to  you 
As  though  I  could  embrace  you ! 

Scaling  yonder  peak, 
I  saw  an  eagle  wheeling  near  its  brow 
O'er  the  abyss:  his  broad-expanded  wings 
Lay  calm  and  motionless  upon  the  air, 
As  if  he  floated  there  without  their  aid, 
By  the  sole  act  of  his  unlorded  will, 
That  buoyed  him  proudly  up.     Instinctively 
I  bent  my  bow  ;  yet  kept  he  rounding  still 
His  airy  circle,  as  in  the  delight 
Of  measuring  the  ample  range  beneath 
And  round  about;  absorbed,  he  heeded  not 
The  deat  i  that  threatened  him.     I  could  not  shoot !  — 
'Twas  libeity  !  —  I  turned  my  bow  aside, 
And  let  him  soar  away  ! 


Gratitude  to  Parents  and  Teachers.  —  d.  p.  Paqb. 

When  a  distinguished  writer  said,  "  God  be  thanked  for  :Ii«j 
gift  of  mothers  and  schoolmasters,"  he  expressed  but  the  com- 
mon sentiment  of  the  human  heart.  The  name  of  parent  justly 
enkindles  the  warmest  emotions  in  the  heart  of  him  who  has 
gone  out  from  his  native  home  to  engage  in  the  busy  scenes  of 
the  work-dav  world;  and  when  sometimes  he  retires  from  the 


<K)  ROSS'S   SPEAKER. 

companionship  of  new-made  friends,  to  recall  the  picture  o!  me 
past  and  the  loved  of  other  days,  —  to  think 

"  Of  childish  joys,  when  bounding  boyhood  knew 
No  grief,  but  chased  the  gorgeous  butterfly, 
And  gamboled  with  the  breeze  that  tossed  about 
His  silken  curls,"  — 

how  sweetly  do  the  genial  influences  of  home  and  childhood, 
with  all  their  hallowed  associations,  come  stealing  over  the  soul ! 
The  world  is  forgotten ;  care  may  not  intrude  upon  this  sacred 
nouT ;  objects  of  sense  are  unheeded  ;  the  call  to  pleasure  is 
disregarded  ;  while  the  rapt  soul,  introverted  —  transported  — 
dwells  with  unspeakable  delight  upon  its  consecrated  recollection 
of  all  that  is  venerable,  all  that  is  sacred  in  the  name  of  Parent. 

At  this  favored  hour,  how  the  heart  swells  at  the  thought  of  a 
mother's  love !  The  smiles,  the  kind  words,  the  sympathy,  the 
counsels,  the  prayers,  the  tears  —  how  fondly  the  memory  treas- 
ures them  up,  and  claims  them  for  its  own !  And  though  death 
may  have  long  since  intruded,  and  consigned  that  gentle  form  to 
the  cold  earth,  rudely  sundering  the  cherished  bonds  of  affection, 
and  leaving  the  hearthstone  desolate  —  though  change  may  have 
brought  strangers  to  fell  the  favorite  tree,  to  remove  the  ancient 
landmarks,  to  lay  waste  the  pleasant  places,  and  even  to  tread 
carelessly  by  the  humble  mound  that  marks  the  revered  spot 
where  "departed  worth  is  laid"  —  though  Time,  "with  his 
effacing  fingers,"  may  have  been  busy  in  obliterating  the  im- 
pressions of  childhood  from  the  mind,  or  in  burying  them  deeply 
beneath  the  rubbish  of  perplexing  cares  —  still  the  true  heart 
never  tires  with  the  thought  of  a  fond  parent,  nor  ever  ceases 
to  "  thank  God  upon  every  remembrance  "  of  a  pious,  devoted 
mother. 

Thus  it  should  ever  be.  Nothing  on  earth  should  be  allowed 
to  claim  the  gratitude  which  is  justly  due  to  judicious  parents. 
But  the  faithful,  devoted  teacher  —  the  former  of  youthful  char- 
acter, and  the  guide  of  youthful  study  —  will  be  sure  to  have 
tne  next  place  in  the  grateful  heart.  Whether  the  young  man 
treads  the  deck  of  the  noble  ship,  in  his  lonely  watch,  as  sh^ 
proudly  walks  the  waters  by  night  —  or  journeys  among  stran- 
gers in  foreign  lands  —  wherever  he  goes,  or  however  employed 
—  as  often  as  his  thoughts  revisit  the  scenes  of  his  childhood, 
and  dwell  with  interest  upon  the  events  that  marked  his  youthful 
progress,  he  will  recur  to  the  old  familiar  school  house,  call  up 
its  well-remembered  incidents  —  its  joys  and  its  sorrows — its 
trials  and  its  triumphs  —  its  all-pervading  and  ever  abiding  influ 
ences  —  and  devoutly  thank  God  for  the  gift  of  a  faithful,  selj 
denying,  patient  teacher. 


THE   WORLD   TRANSITORY.  &1 

The  World  transitory. -Rev.  J.  G.  Pm. 

(AN   IMPRESSIVE   EXHOBTATION.) 

Could  you  revisit  the  now  crowded  streets  of  a  populous  cit$ 
when  one  hundred  years  are  passed,  if  no  new  generation  arose 
you  wouli  find  them  entirely  deserted ;  not  a  single  passengei 
in  them,  nor  an  inhabitant  in  the  houses  ;  but  the  streets,  where 
a  blade  of  grasps  is  never  seen,  then  covered  with  it ;  the  houses 
falling  into  ruin;  many  of  them  already  in  the  dust;  the  birds 
of  the  desert  building  their  nests  in  the  deserted  rooms,  and 
foxes,  half  hid  with  grass  and  nettles,  peeping  through  the  shat- 
tered windows ;  the  houses  of  divine  worship  all  forsaken ; 
every  preacher  gone  from  his  pulpit ;  every  crowded  congrega- 
tion vanished  and  forgotten  in  the  dust ;  and  all  as  silent  as  the 
midst  of  an  Arabian  desert,  or  as  the  chambers  of  the  grave. 

Or,  view  the  subject  by  indulging  pensive  reflection  on  the 
transient  nature  of  all  the  most  endeared  earthly  ties.  Think 
with  yourself,  "  Could  1  rise  from  the  tomb  when  the  year  two 
thousand  comes,  and  look  around  on  the  world  I  shall  then  have 
so  long  forsaken,  what  a  scene  of  desolation  would  it  present  to 
me !  Not  those  only  whom  1  saw  go  before  me,  but  all  I  left, 
would  have  gone  to  eternity.  Could  I  approach  their  now 
cheerful  hearths,  1  should  miss  them  there  ;  walk  in  their  gar- 
dens or  their  fields,  I  should  not  find  them  there ;  go  to  their 
tombs,  and  even  there  would  not  one  wretched  trace  be  found, 
nor  even  a  done  remain,  to  tell  where  they  had  ever  been." 

Look  forward  a  little  further,  to  the  period  when  all  the  noise, 
and  tumult,  and  business  of  this  world  shall  have  closed  forever. 
Hew  has  it  vanished !  How  have  its  short-lived  multitudes 
departed  !  Their  business  over,  their  little  pleasures  finished 
their  hasty  sorrows  ended  ;  their  doom  pronounced,  their  endless 
dwelling  fixed,  and  their  once  gay,  distracting,  perplexing  world 
lost  —  vanished  —  gone  forever.  Let  its  admirers  tell  us  of  hon- 
ors and  fame,  that  will  last  as  long  as  the  sun  shall  shine,  or 
the  world  endure.  Alas,  contemptible  honors  !  that  will  endure 
for  so  brief  a  span  !  The  sun  is  but  a  lamp  that  lights  oui 
pathway  to  an  endless  world.  The  earth  is  but  the  road  pre- 
pared for  pilgrims  to  travel,  till,  in  the  eternal  abodes  of  grief 
or  bliss,  they  reach  an  endless  home.  It  is  but  as  a  moment,  as 
an  inch  of  time,  as  the  darting  of  an  arrow,  the  falling  of  a  star 
the  twinkling  of  an  eye,  or  the  glancing  of  a  thought,  before  al 
which  you  now  behold  shall  pass  away  from  you  as  a  dream 
when  one  awaketh,  and  give  place  to  those  eternal  scenes. 


92  ROSS'S   SPEAKER. 

Then  farewell,  earth  ;  farewell,  sun,  moon  and  stars ;  farewell, 
a  busy  or  an  idle,  a  sad  or  a  pleasurable  world.  But  no  fare- 
Avells  are  known  beyond  the  grave.  To  the  scenes  which  will 
then  open  upon  you  you  will  never  bid  adieu.  Start  forward, 
then,  my  fellow-pilgrim,  start  forward,  in  your  thoughts,  to  ever- 
lasting scenes,  and  roam  among  the  immeasurable  ages  that  lie 
beyond  the  judgment  day.  How  the  world  recedes  as  you 
advance !  It  sinks  to  a  speck — to  a  mote — to  nothing.  How 
six  thousand  years,  or  six  thousand  ages,  dwindle  as  you  sail 
down  the  tide  of  eternity  !  They  sink  to  an  hour — to  a  moment 
— to  the  twinkling  of  an  eye — to  nothingness  itself.  O,  re- 
member that  on  that  awful  tide  you  must  shortly  sail,  when  the 
world  is  nothing  to  you.  Strive  to  love  it  no  more  than  you  will 
do,  when,  myriads  of  ages  after  its  destruction,  you  look  back 
upon  it.  Value  its  honors  as  you  will  value  them  then,  and  prize 
its  pleasures  as  then  you  will  prize  them  ;  and  let  the  prospect 
of  those  amazing  scenes  strike  deeper  on  your  heart  the  salutary 
thought — I  am  but  a  traveler  here.         *         *         * 

ETERNITY !  blessed  or  dreadful  word !  whose  meaning  no 
numbers  can  unfold,  no  ages  can  declare  ;  into  whose  depths  no 
eye  but  that  of  God  has  pierced ;  a  span  whose  length  no  heart 
has  ever  comprehended.  O,  look  at  that  eternity  more !  So 
near  the  world  where  all  is  solemn,  should  you  trifle?  So  near 
the  state  where  all  is  endless,  can  you  prize  what  is  perishing  ? 
At  the  gate  of  eternity,  on  the  threshold  of  an  endless  world,  or, 
at  most,  with  but  a  few  steps  before  you  must  step  into  it,  are 
the  concerns  of  a  fleeting  pilgrimage  of  much  importance? 
Are  you  so  near  doing  what  you  must  do  forever,  so  near 
rejoicing  where  you  must  rejoice  forever,  or  mourning  where 
you  must  mourn  forever,  and  should  not  this  make  a  transitory 
life  and  a  perishing  world  little  things  indeed  ?  Live,  then,  O 
live  as  a  traveler  to  eternity;  a  pilgrim  here,  pressing  to  a 
happy,  endless  home. 


A  Psalm  of  Life. — H.  W.  Longfellow. 

Tell  me  not,  in  mournful  numbers, 
Life  is  but  an  empty  dream ; 

For  the  soul  is  dead  that  slumbers, 
And  things  are  not  what  they  seem. 

Life  is  real ! — life  is  earnest ! 
And  the  grave  is  not  its  goal : 


THE   LEPER. 

Dust  thou  art  —  to  dust  returnest, 
Was  not  spoken  of  the  soul. 

Not  enjoyment,  and  not  sorrow, 

Is  our  destined  end  or  way ; 
But  to  act,  that  each  to-morrow 

Find  us  farther  than  to-day. 

Art  is  long,  and  time  is  fleeting, 

And  our  hearts,  though  stout  and  brave 

Still,  like  muffled  drums,  are  beating 
Funeral  marches  to  the  grave. 

In  the  world's  broad  field  of  battle, 

In  the  bivouac  of  life, 
Be  not  like  dumb,  driven  cattle  — 

Be  a  hero  in  the  strife. 

Trust  no  future,  howe'er  pleasant ; 

Let  the  dead  past  bury  its  dead ; 
Act  —  act  in  the  living  present, 

Heart  within,  and  God  o'erhead. 

Lives  of  great  men  all  remind  us 
We  can  make  our  lives  sublime, 

And   departing,  leave  behind  us 
Footprints  on  the  sands  of  time;  — 

Footprints,  that  perhaps  another, 
Sailing  o'er  life's  solemn  main, 

A  forlorn  and  shipwrecked  brother, 
Seeing,  shall  take  heart  again. 

Let  us,  then,  be  up  and  doing, 

With  a  heart  for  any  fate  ; 
Still  achieving,  still  pursuing, 

Learn  to  labor  and  to  wait  1 


The  Leper.  — K.  P.  Willis. 

a  Room  for  the  leper  !  room  !  "     And,  as  he  came, 
The  cry  passed  on  —  "  Room  for  the  leper  !  room  I w 

E 


ROSSS   SPEAKER. 

And  aside  they  stood  - 
Matron,  and  child,  and  pitiless  manhood  —  ai.' 
Who  met  him  on  his  way,  and  let  him  pass. 
And  onward  through  the  open  gate  he  came, 
A  leper,  with  the  ashes  on  his  brow, 
Sackcloth  about  his  loins,  and  on  his  lip 
A  covering  —  stepping  painfully  and  slow, 
And  with  a  difficult  utterance,  like  one 
Whos';  heart  is  with  an  iron  nerve  put  down, 
Crying,  "  Unclean !  unclean !  " 

'Twas  now  the  first 
Of  the  Judean  autumn,  and  the  leaves, 
Whose  shadows  lay  so  still  upon  his  path, 
Had  put  their  beauty  forth  beneath  the  eye 
Of  Judah's  loftiest  noble.     He  was  young, 
And  eminently  beautiful,  and  life 
Mantled  in  eloquent  fullness  on  his  lip, 
And  sparkled  in  his  glance  ;  and  in  his  mien 
There  was  a  gracious  pride  that  every  eye 
Followed  with  benisons  —  and  this  was  he  ! 
With  the  soft  airs  of  summer,  there  had  come 
A  torpor  on  his  frame,  which  not  the  speed 
Of  his  best  barb,  nor  music,  nor  the  blast 
Of  the  bold  huntsman's  horn,  nor  aught  that  stir? 
The  spirit  to  its  bent,  might  drive  away. 
The  blood  beat  not  as  wont  within  his  veins ; 
Dimness  crept  o'er  his  eye ;  a  drowsy  sloth 
Fettered  his  limbs  like  palsy,  and  his  mien, 
With  all  its  loftiness,  seemed  struck  with  eld. 
Even  his  voice  was  changed  —  a  languid  moan 
Taking  the  place  of  the  clear  silver  key  ; 
And  brain  and  sense  grew  faint,  as  if  the  light 
And  very  air  were  steeped  in  sluggishness 
He  strove  with  it  a  while,  as  manhood  will. 
Ever  too  proud  for  weakness,  till  the  rein 
Slackened  within  his  grasp,  and  in  its  poise 
The  arrowy  jereed,  like  an  aspen,  shook. 
Day  after  day,  he  lay  as  if  asleep : 
His  skin  grew  dry  and  bloodless,  and  white  scale? 
Circled  with  livid  purple,  covered  him, 
-    And  Helon  was  a  leper  ! 

It  was  noon, 
And  Helon  knelt  beside  a  stagnant  pool 


THE   STANDARD   UP   THE   CONSTITUTION.  95 

In  die  lone  wilderness,  and  bathed  his  brow, 

Hot  with  the  burning  leprosy,  and  touched 

The  loathsome  water  to  his  fevered  lips, 

Praying  that  he  might  be  so  blest  —  to  die  ! 

Footsteps  approached,  and,  with  no  strength  to  flee, 

He  drew  the  covering  closer  on  his  lip, 

Crying,  "  Unclean  !  unclean  !  "  and  in  the  folds 

Of  the  coarse  sackcloth  shrouding  up  his  face, 

He  fell  upon  the  earth  till  they  should  pass. 

Nearer  the  Stranger  came,  and,  bending  o'er 

The  leper's  prostrate  form.,  pronounced  his  namo  — 

"  Helon  ! "     The  voice  was  like  the  master-tone 

Of  a  rich  instrument  —  most  strangely  sweet; 

And  the  dull  pulses  of  disease  awoke, 

And  for  a  moment  beat  beneath  the  hot 

And  leprous  scales  with  a  restoring  thrill. 

"  Helon  !  arise  !  "  and  he  forgot  his  curse, 

And  rose  and  stood  before  Him. 

He  looked  on  Helon  earnestly  a  while, 

As  if  his  heart  were  moved,  and,  stooping  down, 

He  took  a  little  water  in  his  hand, 

And  laid  it  on  his  brow,  and  said,  "  Be  clean  !  " 

And  lo !  the  scales  fell  from  him,  and  his  blood 

Coursed  with  delicious  coolness  through  his  vein? 

And  his  dry  palms  grew  moist,  and  on  his  brow 

The  dewy  softness  of  an  infant's  stole. 

His  leprosy  was  cleansed,  and  he  fell  down 

Prostrate  at  Jesus'  feet,  and  worshiped  him. 


The  Standard  of  the  Constitution- 

Websteb 

If  classical  history  has  been  found  to  be,  is  now,  and  shall 
continue  to  be,  the  concomitant  of  free  institutions,  and  of  popu- 
lar eloquence,  what  a  field  is  opening  to  us  for  another  Herodo- 
tus, another  Thucydldes,  (only  may  his  theme  not  be  a  Pelopon- 
nesian  war,)  and  another  Livy  !  And,  let  me  say,  gentlemen, 
that  if  we,  and  our  posterity,  shall  be  true  to  the  Christian 
fligion,  —  if  we  and  they  shall  live  always  in  the  fear  of  God, 
and  shall  respect  his  commandments,  —  if  we  and  *hey  shall 
maintain  just  moral  sentiments,  and  such  conscientious  oonvic- 
ions  of  duty  m  sh;ill  control  the  heart  and  life  — wi   may  have 


1)6  KOSS'S   SPEAKER. 

the  highest  hopes  of  the  future  fortunes  of  our  country.  And, 
if  we  maintain  those  institutions  of  government,  and  that  political 
Union,  —  exceeding  all  praise  as  much  as  it  exceeds  all  former 
examples  of  political  associations,  —  we  may  be  sure  of  one 
thing,  that  while  our  country  furnishes  materials  for  a  thousand 
masters  of  the  historic  art,  it  will  afford  no  topic  for  a  Gibbon. 
It  will  have  no  Decline  and  Fall.  It  will  go  on,  prospering  and 
to  prosper.  But,  if  we  and  our  posterity  reject  religious  instruc- 
tion and  authority,  violate  the  rules  of  eternal  justice,  trifle  with 
the  injunctions  of  morality,  and  recklessly  destroy  the  political 
constitution  which  holds  us  together,  no  man  can  tell  how  sud- 
denly a  catastrophe  may  overwhelm  us  that  shall  bury  all  our 
glory  in  profound  obscurity.  If  that  catastrophe  shall  happen, 
let  it  have  no  history.  Let  the  horrible  narrative  never  be 
written ;  let  its  fate  be  like  that  of  the  lost  books  of  Livy,  which 
no  human  eye  shall  ever  read,  or  the  missing  Pleiad,  of  which 
no  man  can  ever  know  more  than  that  it  is  lost,  and  lost  forever. 

But,  gentlemen,  I  will  not  take  my  leave  of  you  in  a  tone  of 
despondency.  We  may  trust  that  Heaven  will  not  forsake  us, 
so  long  as  we  do  not  forsake  ourselves.  Are  we  of  this  genera- 
tion so  derelict  —  have  we  so  little  of  the  blood  of  our  revolu- 
tionary fathers  coursing  through  our  veins  —  that  we  can  not 
preserve  what  our  ancestors  achieved  ?  The  world  will  cry  out 
"  Shame  "  upon  us,  if  we  show  ourselves  unworthy  to  be  the 
descendants  of  those  great  and  illustrious  men  who  fought  for 
their  liberty,  and  secured  it  to  their  posterity  by  the  constitution. 

The  constitution  has  enemies,  secret  and  professed ;  but  they 
can  not  disguise  the  fact  that  it  secures  us  many  benefits.  These 
enemies  are  unlike  in  character,  but  they  all  have  some  fault  to 
find.  Some  of  them  are  enthusiasts,  hot-headed,  self-sufficient, 
and  headstrong.  They  fancy  that  they  can  make  out  for  them- 
selves a  better  path  than  that  laid  down  for  them.  Phaeton,  the 
ion  of  Apollo,  thought  he  could  find  a  better  course  across  the 
neavens  for  the  sun. 

"  Thus  Phaeton  once,  amidst  the  ethereal  plains, 
Leaped  on  his  father's  car,  and  seized  the  reins, 
Far  from  his  course  impelled  the  glowing  sun, 
Till  Nature's  laws  to  wild  disorder  run." 

Other  enemies  there  are,  more  cool  and  with  more  calcula- 
ion.  These  have  a  deeper  and  more  traitorous  purpose.  They 
lave  spoken  of  forcible  resistance  to  the  provisions  of  the  con- 
stitution ;  they  now  speak  of  secession !  Let  me  say,  gen- 
.■emen,  secession    from    us    is    accession   elsewhere.     He   who 


DANIEL  WEBSTER.  tf 

renounces  the  protection  of  the  stars  and  stripes  shelters  him- 
self under  the  shadow  of  another  flag,  you  may  rest  assured  of 
that.  Now,  to  counteract  the  efforts  of  these  malcontents,  the 
friends  of  the  constitution  must  rally.  ALL  its  friends,  of 
whatever  section,  whatever  their  sectional  opinions  may  be 
must  unite  for  its  preservation.  To  that  standard  we  must 
adhere,  and  uphold  it  through  evil  report  and  good  report.  We 
will  sustain  it,  and  meet  death  itself,  if  it  come ;  we  will  ever 
encounter  and  defeat  error,  by  day  and  by  night,  in  light  or  in 
darkness,  —  thick  darkness,  —  if  it  come,  till 

"  Danger's  troubled  night  is  o'er, 
And  the  star  of  Peace  return." 


Daniel  Webster.  —  h.  w.  Hilliaed, 

In  a  snow-storm  a  sleigh  was  seen  ascending  a  hill  in  thr 
State  of  New  Hampshire,  in  which  were  seated  a  man  already 
mature,  of  fine,  bold  face,  and  a  youth  of  generous  countenance. 
The  elder  traveler  addresses  some  words  to  the  younger,  which 
seem  to  move  him,  for  he  presently  rests  his  head  upon  the 
shoulder  of  his  companion,  and  his  eyes  are  filled  with  tears. 

The  travelers  were  Ebenezer  Webster  and  his  son  Daniel, 
and  the  father  had  just  announced  to  his  son  his  purpose  to  send 
him  to  college.  Daniel,  overcome  with  emotion  at  the  opening 
of  such  a  career,  and  at  the  thought  of  the  sacrifice  which  his 
father  is  about  to  make  for  him,  can  not  restrain  his  tears. 
There  the  ardor  of  a  great  soul  broke  forth,  and  the  eye  of  the 
young  eagle  flashed  as  it  turned  for  the  first  time  toward  the 
sun.         *         *         * 

A  really  great  man  is  the  grandest  object  which  this  world 
ever  exhibits.  The  heavens  in  their  magnificence  —  the  ocean 
in  its  sublime  immensity  —  mountains  standing  firm  upon  their 
granite  foundations  —  all  are  less  imposing  than  a  living  man  in 
the  possession  of  his  highest  faculties. 

Demosthenes  urging  the  Athenians  to  march  against  Philip 
interests  us  more  than  all  Greece.  Hannibal  scaling  the  Alps 
with  his  victorious  legions  is  a  sublimcr  object  than  the  Alps 
themselves.  Marius  seated  upon  the  ruins  of  Carthage  makes 
us  forget  the  fail  of  an  empire  in  contemplating  the  fortunes  of 
a  man.  Nelson  upon  the  deck  of  the  Victory,  with  the  star 
glittering  upon  liis  breast,  is  a  grander  si^ht  than  tlie  two  hoslilo 
Goets.     Napoleon  at  Waterloo,  riding  to  the  brow  of  the  hill  at 


*8  ROSS'S   SPEAKER. 

he  head  of  the  Imperial  Guard  when  they  were  to  make  theii 
ast  charge  upon  the  British  lines,  is  an  object  of  higher  interest 
than  all  the  stem  array  of  battle  beside.  Lord  Chatham  sinking 
in  the  House  of  Lords  is  the  noblest  object  in  the  British  empire  ; 
and  Washington  crossing  the  Delaware  at  night,  amid  the  crash- 
ing ice,  fixes  our  attention  in  the  midst  of  the  dread  magnificence 
of  the  winter  scene,  and  we  look  upon  him  as  we  would  upon  an 
avenging  archangel  going  forth  to  smite  the  invading  army. 

Our  country  has  produced  some  great  men.  They  glow  in 
the  heaven  of  the  past  like  stars  in  the  firmament,  and  in  that 
splendid  constellation  we  see  Webster  in  full-orbed  glory.  In 
history,  as  in  the  heavens,  one  star  diflfereth  from  another  star 
«n  glory. 


The  Same,  continued. 

It  is  not  always  that  the  majesty  of  the  intellect  is  symbolized 
in  the  external  man,  but  in  the  case  of  Webster  it  was  so.  His 
appearance  was  nothing  less  than  grand.  In  the  midst  of  his 
peers  in  the  Senate,  he  stood  like  a  tower,  in  shape  and  gesture 
proudly  eminent ;  or  he  sat,  amid  its  august  deliberations,  as  if 
upon  his  broad  shoulders  alone  he  could  bear  the  weight  of  the 
government.  His  head  rose  with  an  ample  swell,  which  remind- 
ed one  of  that  dome  which  Michael  Angelo  hung  in  the  heavens. 
His  eyes  were  large,  dark,  and  of  that  fathomless  depth  which 
gives  so  fine  an  expression  to  the  face. 

These,  with  his  dark  complexion  and  hair,  presented  at  all 
times  a  spectacle  which  would  fix  the  attention  if  seen  in  any 
assemblage  of  men ;  but  it  was  when  he  was  roused  by  some 
great  theme,  or  fired  by  some  important  debate,  that  he  rose 
into  an  aspect  of  Olympian  power  and  grandeur.  Then  we 
•ould  comprehend  Milton's  description  of  the  style  of  Demos- 
henes : — 

"  He  shook  the  Arsenal, 
And  fulmined  over  Greece." 

V  thunder-cloud  seemed  at  times  to  hang  upon  his  brow,  but  as 
ie  advanced  in  his  argument,  something  like  a  smile,  resembling 
ray  of  sunlight,  would  pass  over  his  features. 
No  grander  spectacle  could  be  witnessed  than  that  which  he 
presented  when  his  mighty  intellect  was  in  full  play,  and  the 
great  passions  of  his  nature  glowed  in  his  countenance.  It  was 
like  looking  upon  a  great  mountain,  in  whose  depths  the  mohcu 


YOUTHFUL    LOVK  99 

ore,  under  the  intense  heat  of  internal  fires,  begins  to  flow,  and 
at  length  pours  out  in  a  broad  stream  of  living  flame.  There 
was  a  great  deal  of  poetry  in  Mr.  Webster's  nature,  and  it  was 
Ihis  that  gave  him  his  preeminence  as  a  writer  and  an  orator. 
There  can  be  no  true  eloquence  which  is  not  in  some  way  allied 
to  poetry,  nor  can  there  be  true  greatness  of  any  kind  which  is 
the  work  of  the  head ;  the  heart  must  originate  it,  or  it  is  no 
greatness  at  all. 

*  Among  the  mighty  and  ponderous  thoughts  conceived  by  tr 
capacious  mind  of  this  great  man,  he  was  once  asked  by  an  int 
mate  friend  to  name  the  greatest  and  most  sublime.  Without 
a  moment's  hesitancy  he  replied,  "  My  individual  responsibil- 
ity to  God  "  —  a  thought  which  can  be  apprehended  in  all  the 
grandeur  of  its  proportions  only  by  the  highest  created  intelli- 
gence.        *         *         * 

His  politics  must  not  now  be  discussed ;  but  we  may  be 
allowed  to  say  that  it  is  the  crowning  glory  of  his  career  that 
the  last  great  utterance  which  he  ever  made  —  his  speech  of  th° 
7th  of  March,  1850  —  was  an  utterance  of  great  and  patriotic 
sentiments,  sounding  out  through  the  whole  land  ;  appealing  to 
Massachusetts  to  stand  by  the  constitution ;  assuring  the  south 
of  his  purpose  to  carry  out  the  provisions  of  the  national  com- 
pact ;  calling  upon  the  country,  as  a  conscript  father  might  have 
appealed  to  Rome,  to  be  true  to  herself —  an  utterance  which 
will  sound  out  to  future  ages. 


Youthful  Love.  —  Pollox's  Cochbh  or  Tim. 

It  was  an  eve  of  autumn's  holiest  mood. 
The  cornfields,  bathed  in  Cynthia's  silver  light. 
Stood  ready  for  the  reaper's  gathering  hand; 
And  all  the  winds  slept  soundly.     Nature  seemed. 
In  silent  contemplation,  to  adore 
Its  Maker.     Now  and  then  the  aged  leaf 
Fell  from  its  fellows,  rustling  to  the  ground, 
And,  as  it  fell,  bade  man  think  on  his  end. 
On  vale  and  lake,  on  wood  and  mountain  high, 
With  pensive  wing  outspread,  sat  heavenly  Thought, 
Conversing  with  itself.     Vesper  looked  forth, 
From  out  her  western  hermitage,  and  smiled ; 

*  Wn  b»re  taken  the  liberty  of  Interpolating  this  paragTa|>e>. 


t0Q  KUSS'S   SPEAKER. 

And  up  the  east,  unclouded,  rode  the  moon, 
With  all  her  stars,  gazing  on  earth  intense, 
As  if  she  saw  some  wonder  walking  there. 

Such  was  the  night,  so  lovely,  still,  serene, 
When,  by  a  hermit  thorn  that  on  the  hill 
Had  seen  a  hundred  flowery  ages  pass, 
A  damsel  kneeled  to  offer  up  her  prayer, 
Her  prayer  nightly  offered,  nightly  heard. 
This  ancient  thorn  had  been  the  meeting  place 
Of  love,  before  his  country's  voice  had  called 
The  ardent  youth  to  fields  of  honor  far 
Beyond  the  wave ;  and  hither  now  repaired, 
Nightly,  the  maid,  by  God's  all-seeing  eye 
Seen  only,  while  she  sought  this  boon  alone, 
"  Her  lover's  safety,  and  his  quick  return." 
In  holy,  humble  attitude  she  kneeled, 
And  to  her  bosom,  fair  as  moonbeam,  pressed 
One  hand,  the  other  lifted  up  to  heaven. 
Her  eye,  upturned,  bright  as  the  star  of  morn, 
As  violet  meek,  excessive  ardor  streamed, 
Wafting  away  her  earnest  heart  to  God. 
Her  voice,  scarce  uttered,  soft  as  zephyr  sighs 
On  morning  lily's  cheek,  though  soft  and  low, 
Yet  heard  in  heaven,  heard  at  the  mercy-seat. 
A  tear-drop  wandered  on  her  lovely  face ; 
It  was  a  tear  of  faith  and  holy  fear, 
Pure  as  the  drops  that  hang,  at  dawning  time, 
On  yonder  willows  by  the  stream  of  life. 
On  her  the  moon  looked  stedfastly ;  the  stars, 
That  circle  nightly  round  the  eternal  throne, 
Glanced  down,  well  pleased  ;  and  Everlasting  Love 
Gave  gracious  audience  to  her  prayer  sincere. 

O,  had  her  lover  seen  her  thus  alone, 
Thus  holy,  wrestling  thus,  and  all  for  him ! 
Nor  did  he  not :  for  ofttimes  Providence 
With  unexpected  joy  the  fervent  prayer 
Of  faith  surprised.     Returned  from  long  delay, 
With  glory  crowned  of  righteous  actions  won, 
The  sacred  thorn,  to  memory  dear,  first  sought 
The  youth,  and  found  it  at  the  happy  hour, 
Just  when  the  damsel  kneeled  herself  to  pray. 
WrapDed  in  devotion,  pleading  with  her  God, 
She  saw  mm  not,  heard  not  his  foot  approach. 
All  holy  images  seemed  too  impure 


THE   CONTROL    OF   SPIRIT   OVER   MATTER.  10J 

To  emblem  her  he  saw.     A  seraph  kneeled, 

Beseeching  for  his  ward,  before  the  throne, 

Seemed  fittest,  pleased  him  best.    Sweet  was  the  thought '. 

But  sweeter  still  the  kind  remembrance  came, 

That  she  was  flesh  and  blood,  formed  for  himself, 

The  plighted  partner  of  his  future  life. 

And  as  they  met,  embraced,  and  sat,  embowered, 

In  woody  chambers  of  the  starry  night, 

Spirits  of  love  about  them  ministered, 

And  God,  approving,  blessed  the  holy  joy. 


The  Control  of  Spirit  over  Matter.  —  Rkv.  Db.  Winans. 

No  one  thinks  of  holding  either  infants  or  insane  persons  of 
mature  age  responsible  for  the  moral  character  of  their  action ; 
though  they  are  the  subjects  of  passion,  and  resolutely  will  their 
own  course  of  action.  This  is  the  case,  because  they  are  deemed 
incapable  of  perceiving  the  moral  relations  of  the  action  upon 
which  they  have  determined,  and  for  no  other  reason.  Whereas 
perceptions  of  moral  relations,  susceptibility  to  passion  and  will, 
wherever  they  coexist,  constitute  the  spirit  which  is  endowed 
with  them  a  responsible  agent.  That  power  to  control  matter 
belongs  to  spirit,  none  can  doubt,  after  duly  considering  the 
control  which  the  mind  or  spirit  in  man  exerts  over  the  material 
portion  of  his  own  nature — his  nerves  and  his  muscles,  and, 
through  these,  over  the  world  of  matter  without  himself.  How 
this  control  is  exerted,  it  is  idle  to  inquire  ;  but  the  fact  itself  is 
so  notorious  and  so  indisputable,  that,  however  inscrutable  the 
mode  of  operation,  the  power  is,  we  suppose,  universally  admit- 
ted to  exist. 

What  mighty  achievements,  by  means  of  these  few  and  sim- 
ple capabilities,  has  spirit  —  creature-spirit  —  performed.  To 
what  hights  of  science,  to  what  depths  of  discovery,  to  what  an 
extent  of  knowledge  has  it  attained  !  How  has  it  dazzled  the 
eye  and  charmed  the  imagination,  by  the  splendors  and  the 
beauty  of  architecture,  sculpture,  and  painting!  With  what 
heart-melting  melodies  and  soul-thrilling  harmonies  has  it,  by 
means  of  eloquence,  music,  and  song,  enraptured  the  listening 
thousands,  whose  happiness  it  lias  been  to  come  within  the  range 
of  their  influence  !  How  lias  it  multiplied  to  man  the  means  of 
subsistence  and  comfort,  and  ahridged   the  toils  of  the  conditio? 


K 


* 


105>  ROSS'S   SPEAKER. 

in  which  his  rebellion  has  placed  him,  in  which  he  is  doomed 
"  in  the  sweat  of  his  face  to  eat  bread  all  the  days  of  his  life." 

What  efficient  forms  of  government  has  it  instituted,  to  re- 
press the  vices  of  the  refractory,  and  to  protect  society  in  the 
enjoyment  of  its  rights  and  privileges !  What  noble  examples 
of  moral  virtue,  in  sages,  in  statesmen,  in  martyrs,  and  in  the 
poor  and  unregarded  among  men,  has  it  produced,  to  display 
the  true  and  elevated  dignity  to  which  man,  in  all  kinds  of 
society  and  in  all  kinds  of  circumstances,  may  attain !  And 
now  pure,  how  ennobling,  how  worthy  of  God,  and  how  suited 
to  the  nature,  condition,  and  capabilities  of  man,  the  system  of 
religion,  which,  under  the  instruction  of  revelation,  has  been 
-^mpassed  by  the  spirit  of  man ! 


Sublimity  and  Beneficence  of  Creative  Power. 

Rev.  Dr.  Winans. 

"  And  God  said,  Let  the  waters  under  the  heaven  be  gathered 
together  unto  one  place,  and  let  the  dry  land  appear ;  and  it  was  so. 
And  God  called  the  dry  land  earth,  and  the  gathering  together  of 
the  waters  called  he  seas."  Immediately,  upon  the  divine  com- 
mand, down  sank  more  than  half  the  earth's  surface,  in  many 
parts  of  it  to  unfathomable  depths.  From  all  portions  not  thus 
depressed  rushed  the  waters  under  the  whole  heavens;  till  by 
suitable  drains  were  drawn  together,  in  ocean's  capacious  basins, 
the  superfluous  waters  of  the  whole  earth,  and  the  dry  land 
emerged,  with  mountain  and  valley,  hill  and  dale,  diversifying 
its  face,  to  be  the  proper  scene  of  those  vegetable  and  animal 
organizations  with  which  the  all-wise  Creator  was  about  to 
adorn  and  people  its  vast  area. 

The  sea  has  been  called  the  wide  waste  of  waters.  Nothing 
could  be  more  unjust ;  for,  besides  that  the  sea  is  occupied  by 
innumerable  tribes  of  sensuous  beings,  whose  constitutions  are 
adapted  to  the  circumstances  in  which  they  are  placed,  is  it  not 
notorious  that,  without  such  a  surface  as  is  spread  out  by  the 
seas,  evaporation,  sufficient  to  the  purpose  of  watering  the  earth, 
by  dews  and  rains,  would  be  impracticable  ;  and  earth,  through- 
out its  whole  extent,  would  be  as  sterile  and  as  arid  as  the 
deserts  of  Sahara  ?  Then  how  greatly  has  the  intercourse 
between  the  most  distant  parts  of  the  globe  been  facilitated  by 
the  existence  of  this  highway  of  nations  ! 

A  waste  of  waters !     Nay,  verily,  but  a  scene  of  dbundanl 


SUBLIMITY  OF   CREATIVE   POWER.  103 

and  varied  life  and  enjoyment  —  a  reservoir,  whence  the  earth 
is  irrigated  and  rendered  fruitful  —  the  artery  of  social  exist- 
ence —  the  great  thoroughfare  of  commerce  !  To  render  it  tne 
more  suitable  for  this  latter  purpose,  as  well  as  to  prevent  nox- 
ious exhalations  from  its  immensely  extended  surface,  the  water 
of  the  seas  is  strongly  impregnated  with  salts,  which  increase  its 
buoyancy  and  lessen  its  tendency  to  stagnation  and  decomposi- 
tion. Well  might  the  Psalmist  adoringly  exclaim,  "  In  wisdom 
hast  thou  made  them  all !  —  so  is  this  great  and  wide  sea ; 
wherein  are  things  creeping  innumerable,  both  small  and  great 
beasts.  There  go  the  ships ! '  Such  and  so  important  is  the 
sea.         •         *         • 

Upon  the  earth  or  dry  land  was  simultaneously  spread  out  the 
beautiful  carpet  of  green,  variegated  with  flowers  of  every  hue, 
and  sending  up  delicious  fragrance  to  regale  the  sense*  of  be- 
ings capable  of  such  gratification  ;  then  rose  the  shrub,  in  lowly 
beauty,  by  the  Lidc  of  the  stately  pine,  the  majestic  oak,  the 
beautiful  cedar,  and  the  graceful  palm.  Then,  too,  the  laden 
boughs  of  herb,  shrub,  and  tree  displayed  their  various  fruits, 
rich,  delicious,  and  nutritive  —  the  bounty  of  Providence  abun- 
dant ir  resources,  and  as  munificent  as  abundant.  Every  vari- 
ety of  taste  is  catered  to  in  this  provision.  Every  sense,  capable 
of  being  served  by  such  ministry,  is  provided  with  appropriate 
gratification  in  these  fruits  of  the  field  and  of  the  forest.  Feel- 
ing, and  smell,  and  taste,  and  sight  are  as  intensely  regaled  as 
if  pleasure  were  the  only  object  of  the  provision,  instead  of 
being  a  mere  accessory  to  the  more  important  purpose  of  per- 
petuating "xistencc.         *         *         * 

The  broa '  world  had  already  been  surrounded  by  a  firma- 
ment, or  atmosphere,  which,  besides  being  the  great  magazine 
of  meteoric  agencies,  by  which  the  earth  is  rendered  productive 
of  vegetation,  and  rendered  habitable  by  the  various  tribes  of 
animals  which  ;ive  upon  its  surface,  is,  moreover,  the  great 
instrument  of  sound  —  the  chord  whose  vibrations  give  utterance 
to  all  the  varied  notes  of  naiure's  mightv  concert.  Bv  its  means 
is  heard  the  eloquence  of  the  orator  and  the  melody  of  the 
musician  —  the  whisper  of  the  zephyr  and  the  roar  of  the  thun- 
der. The  instruction  and  the  pleasure  of  conversation  could 
not  be  enjoyed  without  its  intervention.  And  what  is  most  im- 
portant of  all,  perhaps,  in  the  uses  of  the  atmosphere,  is  that,  by 
means  of  respiration,  :t  imparts  vitality  to  the  blood,  upon  whics 
the  continuance  of  lif*>  is  constantly  and  absolutely  dependent. 


104  ROSS'S   SPEAKER. 


Marmion  and  the  Douglas.  —  Sooi*. 

Not  far  advanced  was  morning  day, 
When  Marmion  did  his  troop  array 

To  Surrey's  camp  to  ride  ; 
He  had  safe  conduct  for  his  band, 
Beneath  the  royal  seal  and  hand, 

And  Douglas  gave  a  guide. 
The  train  from  out  the  castle  drew ; 
But  Marmion  stopped  to  bid  adieu  : 

"  Though  something  I  might  plain,"  he  said, 
"  Of  cold  respect  to  stranger  guest, 
Sent  hither  by  your  king's  behest, 

While  in  Tantallon's  towers  I  staid, 
Part  we  in  friendship  from  your  land, 
And,  noble  earl,  receive  my  hand." 
But  Douglas  round  him  drew  his  cloak, 
Folded  his  arms,  and  thus  he  spoke  : 
"  My  manors,  halls,  and  bowers  shall  still 
Be  open  at  my  sovereign's  will, 
To  each  one  whom  he  lists,  howe'er 
Unmeet  to  be  the  owner's  peer  : 
My  castles  are  my  king's  alone, 
From  turret  to  foundation  stone  — 
The  hand  of  Douglas  is  his  own, 
And  never  shall  in  friendly  grasp 
The  hand  of  such  as  Marmion  clasp." 
Burned  Marmion's  swarthy  cheek  like  fir© 
And  shook  his  very  frame  for  ire, 

And,  "  This  to  me  !  "  he  said : 
"  An  'twere  not  for  thy  hoary  beard, 
Such  hand  as  Marmion's  had  not  spared 

To  cleave  the  Douglas'  head ! 
And  first,  I  tell  thee,  haughty  peer, 
He  who  does  England's  message  here, 
Although  the  meanest  in  her  state, 
May  well,  proud  Angus,  be  thy  mates : 
And,  Douglas,  more  I  tell  thee  here, 

Even  in  thy  pitch  of  pride, 
Here  in  thy  hold,  thy  vassals  near, 
(Nay,  never  look  upon  your  lord, 
And  lay  your  hands  upon  your  sword,) 

I  tell  thee,  thou'rt  defied  ! 


THE   DEATH   OF   MARM10IS  105 

And  if  thou  saidst,  I  am  not  peer 
To  any  lord  in  Scotland  here, 
Lowland  or  Highland,  far  or  near, 

Lord  Angus,  thou  hast  lied." 
On  the  earl's  cheek  the  flush  of  rage 
O'ercame  the  ashen  hue  of  age ; 
Fierce  he  broke  forth  :  "  And  dar'st  thou  then 
To  beard  the  lion  in  his  den, 

The  Douglas  in  his  hall  ? 
And  hop'st  thou  hence  unscathed  to  go  ? 
No,  by  St.  Bride  of  Bothwell,  no ! 
Up  drawbridge,  grooms  —  what,  warder,  ho! 

Let  the  portcullis  fall." 
Lord  Marmion  turned,  —  well  was  his  need, — 
And  dashed  the  rowels  in  his  steed, 
Like  arrow  through  the  archway  sprung ; 
The  ponderous  grate  behind  him  rung : 
To  pass  there  was  such  scanty  room, 
The  bars,  descending,  razed  his  plume. 


The  Death  of  Marmion.  —  Scott. 

With  that,  straight  up  the  hill  there  rode 
Two  horsemen  drenched  with  gore, 

And  in  their  arm?,  a  helpless  load, 
A  wounded  knight  they  bore. 

His  hand  still  strained  the  broken  brand  ; 

His  arms  were  smeared  with  blood  and  sand; 

1  nagged  from  among  the  horses'  feet, 

With  dinted  shield  and  helmet  beat, 

The  falcon  crest  and  plumage  gone, 

Can  that  be  haughty  Marmion  ? 

When,  doffed  his  casque,  he  felt  free  air, 

Around  'gan  Marmion  wildly  stare  : 

"  Where's  Harry  Blount  ?     Fitz-Eustace  where 

Linger  ye  here,  ye  hearts  of  hare  ? 

Redeem  my  pennon  —  charge  again! 

Cry  — '  Marmion  to  the  rescue  ! '  —  Vain  ! 

Last  of  my  race,  on  battle  plain 

That  shout  shall  ne'er  be  heard  again!  — 

Vet  iny  hist  thought  is  England's  —  fly! 

Must  I  hid  twice?  —  hence,  varlcts!  fly! 


!06  KOSS'S  SPEAKER. 

Leave  Marmion  here  alone  —  to  die." 

They  parted,  and  alone  he  lay : 

With  fruitless  labor  Clara  bound, 

And  strove  to  stanch  the  gushing  wound : 

The  monk,  with  unavailing  cares, 

Exhausted  all  the  church's  prayers. 

Ever,  he  said,  that,  close  and  near, 

A  lady's  voice  was  in  his  ear, 

And  that  the  priest  he  could  not  hear ; 

For  that  she  ever  sung, 
"  In  the  lost  battle,  borne  down  by  the  flying, 
Where  mingles  war's  rattle  with  groans  of  the  dying! 

So  the  notes  rung  :  — 
"  Avoid  thee,  fiend  !  —  with  cruel  hand, 
Shake  not  the  dying  sinner's  sand ! 
O,  look,  my  son,  upon  yon  sign 
Of  the  Redeemer's  grace  divine ; 

O,  think  on  faith  and  bliss! 
By  many  a  death  bed  I  have  been, 
And  many  a  sinner's  parting  seen, 

But  never  aught  like  this." 
The  war,  that  for  a  space  did  fail, 
Now  trebly  thundering  swelled  the  gale, 

And,  "Stanley!"  was  the  cry. 
A  light  on  Marmion's  visage  spread, 

And  fired  his  glazing  eye  : 
With  dying  hand,  above  his  head, 
He  shook  the  fragment  of  his  blade, 

And  shouted,  "Victory!  — 
Charge,  Chester,  charge  !     On,  Stanley,  on  !  " 
Were  the  last  words  of  Marmion. 


The  Union.  —  Webbtbb, 

It  is  not  to  be  denied  that  we  live  in  the  midst  of  strong 
agitations ;  in  the  midst  of  dangers  to  the  institutions  of  our 
government.  The  imprisoned  winds  are  let  loose.  "  The  east 
the  north,  and  the  stormy  south  are  all  combined  to  make  the 
whole  ocean  toss  its  billows  to  the  skies,  and  disclose  its  pro- 
foundest  depths."  I  do  not  affect  to  hold,  or  to  be  fit  to  hold, 
the  helm  in  this  combat  with  the  political  elements:  but  I  have 
a  duty  to  perform,  and  I  intend  to  perform  it  with  fidelity  —  nc* 


THE   UNION  101 

without  a  sense  of  surrounding  dangers,  and  not  without  hope. 
I  have  a  part  to  act ;  not  for  my  own  security  and  safety,  —  for 
I  am  looking  out  for  no  fragment  upon  which  to  float  away  from 
the  wreck,  if  wreck  is  to  ensue,  —  but  for  the  good  of  the  whole, 
nnd  the  preservation  of  the  whole. 

I  speak  to-day  for  the  preservation  of  the  Union  ;  I  speak 
from  a  solicitous  and  anxious  desire  for  the  restoration  to  the 
country  of  that  quiet  and  that  harmony  which  make  the  bless- 
ings of  this  Union  so  rich  and  so  dear  to  us  all.  I  should  much 
prefer  to  hear  from  every  member  upon  this  floor  declarations 
of  opinion  that  this  Union  could  never  be  dissolved,  than  the 
declarations  of  opinion  that  in  any  case,  under  the  pressure  of 
any  circumstances,  such  a  dissolution  was  possible.  I  hear  with 
pain,  and  anguish,  and  distress,  the  word  secession,  when  it  falls 
from  the  lips  of  those  who  are  eminent,  patriotic,  known  to  the 
country,  and  known  to  the  world,  for  their  political  services. 
Secession !  peaceable  secession !  Your  eyes  and  mine  are 
never  destined  to  see  that  miracle. 

1  would  rather  hear  of  natural  blasts  and  mildews,  of  war, 
pestilence,  and  famine,  than  to  hear  gentlemen  talk  of  secession  ; 
of  breaking  up  this  great  government,  of  dismembering  this 
great  country.  Gentlemen  are  not  serious  when  they  talk  of 
peaceable  secession  and  dissolution.  Peaceable  secession  !  The 
dismemberment  of  this  vast  country  without  convulsion !  The 
breaking  up  of  the  fountains  of  the  great  deep  without  ruffling 
the  surface!  Who  is  foolish  enough  —  I  ask  every  body's  par- 
rlon  —  who  is  foolish  enough  to  expect  to  see  any  such  thing  ? 
lie  who  sees  these  states  now  revolving  in  harmony  around  one 
common  centre,  and  expects  to  see  them  quit  their  places,  and 
fly  off  without  convulsions,  may  look  out  the  next  day  to  see  the 
heavenly  bodies  rush  from  their  spheres,  and  jostle  against  each 
other  in  the  realms  of  space,  without  producing  a  crush  of  the 
universe. 

Such  a  thing  as  peaceable  secession  !  It  is  utterly  impossible. 
Is  ihe  constitution  under  which  we  live,  covering  this  whole 
country,  to  be  thawed  and  melted  away  by  secession,  as  the 
snows  upon  the  mountains  are  melted  under  the  influence  of  a 
vernal  sun,  to  disappear  almost  unobserved  ?  Our  ancestors 
would  rebuke  and  reproach  us ;  our  children  and  grandchildren 
would  cry  shame  upon  us,  if  we  of  this  generation  should  tar- 
nish those  ensigns  of  the  honor,  power  and  harmony  of  the 
Union,  which  we  now  behold  with  so  much  joy  and  gratitude. 

Peaceable  secession !  A  concurrent  resolution  of  all  the 
nembers  of  this  great  republic  to  separate  !     Where  is  the  line 


108  ROSS'S   SPEAKER. 

to  be  drawn  ?  What  states  are  to  be  associated  ?  What  is  to 
become  of  the  army  ?  What  is  to  become  of  the  navy  ?  What 
is  to  become  of  the  public  lands  ?  Alas  !  what  is  to  remain 
America?  What  am  I  to  be?  Where  is  our  flag  to  remain? 
Where  is  the  eagle  still  to  soar  aloft  ?  or  is  he  to  cower,  and 
shrink,  and  fall  to  the  earth  ? 

Sir,  we  could  not  sit  down  here  to-day,  and  draw  a  line  of 
separation   that   would    satisfy  any  five    men    in    the   country. 
There  are  natural  causes  that  would  keep  and  tie  us  together 
and  there  are  social  and  domestic  relations  which  we  could  no 
break  if  we  would,  and  which  we  should  not  if  we  could. 


Rienzi's  Address  to  the  Romans.  —  Maby  r.  Mitfosd 

Friends, 
I  come  not  here  to  talk.     Ye  know  too  well 
The  story  of  our  thralldom.     We  are  slaves  ! 
The  bright  sun  rises  to  his  course,  and  lights 
A  race  of  slaves !     He  sets,  and  his  last  beam 
Falls  on  a  slave.     Not  such  as,  swept  along 
By  the  full  tide  of  power,  the  conqueror  leads 
To  crimson  glory  and  undying  fame  ; 
But  base,  ignoble  slaves  —  slaves  to  a  horde 
Of  petty  despots,  feudal  tyrants ;  lords, 
Rich  in  some  dozen  paltry  villages ; 
Strong  in  some  hundred  spearmen ;  only  great 
In  that  strange  spell,  a  name.     Each  hour,  dark  fraud, 
Or  open  rapine,  or  protected  murder, 
Cry  out  against  them.     But  this  very  day, 
An  honest  man,  my  neighbor,  —  there  he  stands,  — 
Was  struck  —  struck  like  a  dog  —  by  one  who  wore 
The  badge  of  Ursini ;  because,  forsooth, 
lie  tossed  not  high  his  ready  cap  in  air, 
Nor  lifted  up  his  voice  in  servile  shouts, 
At  sight  of  that  great  ruffian.     Be  we  men, 
And  suffer  such  dishonor  ?  —  men,  and  wash  not 
The  stain  away  in  blood  ?     Such  shames  are  common 
I  have  known  deeper  wrongs,  —  I,  that  speak  to  ye. 
I  had  a  brother,  once  ;  a  gracious  boy, 
Full  of  all  gentleness,  of  calmest  hope, 
Of  sweet  and  quiet  joy.     O,  how  I  loved 
That  gracious  boy  !     Younger  by  fifteen  years  • 


MAN   AND  WOMAN    IN    CONTRAST.  109 

Brother  at  once  and  son.     He  left  my  side, 

A  summer  bloom  on  his  fair  cheeks,  a  smile 

Parting  his  innocent  lips.     In  one  short  hour 

The  pretty,  harmless  boy  was  slain  !     I  saw 

His  corse,  his  mangled  corse ;  and  then  I  cried 

For  vengeance.     Rouse  ye,  Romans  !  rouse  ye,  slaves! 

Have  ye  brave  sons  ?     Look  in  the  next  fierce  brawl 

To  see  them  die.     Have  ye  fair  daughters  ?     Look 

To  see  them  live,  torn  from  your  arms,  distained, 

Dishonored  ;  and  if  ye  dare  to  call  for  justice, 

Be  answered  with  the  lash  !     Yet  this  is  Rome, 

That  sat  on  her  seven  hills,  and  from  her  throne 

Of  beauty  ruled  the  world  !     And  we  are  Romans ! 

Why,  in  that  elder  day,  to  be  a  Roman 

Was  greater  than  a  king  !     And  once  again,  — 

Hear  me,  ye  walls,  that  echoed  to  the  tread 

Of  either  Brutus  !  —  once  again,  I  swear, 

The  Eternal  City  shall  be  free ! 


Man  and  Woman  in  Contrast  —  Wibt. 

Man  stands  before  us  in  all  his  native  dignity.  He  com- 
mands admiration  by  the  boldness  of  his  designs,  the  grandeur 
of  his  conceptions,  the  chivalry  of  his  deeds,  and  the  preemi- 
nence of  his  talents.  He  delights  to  figure  in  the  world's  eye, 
and  to  hear  his  praises  rung  by  every  tongue.  He  glories  in 
the  stormy  agitations  of  life.  His  throne  is  tempest,  and  his 
state  convulsion.  He  rules  nations  by  a  word,  shakes  kingdoms 
by  his  influence,  overturns  governments  at  his  will,  and  destroys 
his  fellow-man  in  the  mere  wantonness  of  power.  Riding  upon 
the  whirlwind,  he  mocks  the  raging  storm  ;  playing  with  the 
lightning,  he  hears  unmoved  the  thunder's  voice.  The  wings  of 
time  make  for  him  music  as  they  move ;  and  he  forgets,  too 
often,  as  he  is  wafted  to  eternity's  brink,  the  dread  realities  of  a 
"  Goa  in  thunder,  and  a  world  on  fire."  Such  are,  generally, 
the  aspirations  of  his  mind,  the  employment  of  his  life,  and  the 
consummation  of  his  career.  To  be  prepared  for  their  strange 
vicissitudes,  and  to  control  with  facility  their  wonderful  muta- 
tions, man  should  he  educated. 

Woman  sits  by  her  fireside,  in  the  beauty  of  her  charms,  and 
in  the  worshiped  graces  of  her  loveliness.  The  nature  of  her 
duties,  the  care  of  her  children,  the  laws  of  the  land,  and  the 


HO  ROSS'S   SPEAKER. 

usages  of  society,  bind  her  to  the  home  of  her  love.  She  de- 
lights to  smooth  the  rough  asperities  of  nature,  to  temper  the 
burning  heat  of  restless  ambition,  to  check  the  adventurous  spirit 
of  daring  heroism,  and  to  sweeten,  by  the  endearments  of  social 
intercourse,  the  passing  hours  of  a  brief  existence.  When  the 
world  is  convulsed  by  the  madness  of  ambition,  and  distracted 
by  the  vice  and  folly  of  legalized  wickedness,  she  enlivens  and 
purifies  the  domestic  circle,  by  the  affections  and  charities  of  a 
"  well-ordered  life  and  a  blameless  conversation."  She  watches, 
w  ith  maternal  solicitude,  the  sportive  tricks  of  helpless  infancy ; 
listens  to  the  sweet  music  of  its  voice ;  exults  in  the  endearing 
playfulness  of  its  smiles ;  weeps  at  the  melting  accents  of  :ts 
cry ;  and,  as  she  rocks  the  little  manly  spirit  to  its  repose,  strikes 
the  silver-toned  notes  of  merry  happiness,  and  enjoys  again  the 
dewy  freshness  of  life's  morning  hour. 

In  lime's  rapid  flight,  the  days  of  childhood  have  passed,  and 
the  little  prattler  stands  by  his  "mighty  mother's"  side,  life's 
young  pilgrim.  With  a  deep  sense  of  the  responsibility  of  her 
trust,  she  molds  his  mind  and  forms  his  manners,  directs  his 
powers  and  regulates  his  conduct.  In  process  of  time,  she 
unfolds  the  saving  truths  of  his  condition  and  danger,  destination 
and  immortality.  She  strikes  the  chord  of  deep-toned  feeling, 
opens  the  fountains  of  sympathetic  emotions,  kindles  the  flame 
of  virtuous  ambition,  points  to  the  source  of  religious  consola- 
tion, and,  at  last,  sends  forth  the  wanderer  upon  the  world's 
wide  theater,  with  a  mother's  love  and  a  mother's  blessing.  To 
perform  appropriately  these  high  and  delicate  trusts,  should  not 
woman  be  educated  ? 


Speech  of  Semjironius  for  War.  —  Addisoh 

My  voice  is  still  for  war 
Gods !  can  a  Roman  senate  long  debate 
Which  of  the  two  to  choose  —  slavery  or  death? 
No ;  let  us  rise  at  once,  gird  on  our  swords, 
And  at  the  head  of  our  remaining  troops 
Attack  the  foe,  break  through  the  thick  array 
Of  his  thronged  legions,  and  charge  home  upon  hirr 
Perhaps  some  arm,  more  lucky  than  the  rest, 
May  reach  his  heart,  and  free  the  world  from  bondage. 
Rise,  fathers,  rise !  'tis  Rome  demands  your  help. 
Rise,  and  revenge  her  slaughtered  citizens, 
Or  share  their  fate.     The  corpse  of  half  her  senaie 


SPEECH    OF  UATO.  11] 

Manure  the  fields  of  Thessaly,  while  we 
Sit  here,  deliberating,  in  cold  debates, 
If  we  should  sacrifice  our  lives  to  honor, 
Or  wear  them  out  in  servitude  and  chains. 
Rouse  up,  for  shame  !  our  brothers  of  Pharsalia 
Point  at  their  wounds,  and  cry  aloud,  "  To  battle  ! ' 
Great  Pompey's  shade  complains  that  we  are  slow, 
And  Scipio's  ghost  walks  unrevenged  amongst  us! 


Speech  of  Lucius  for  Peace.  —  Addison. 

My  thoughts,  I  must  confess,  are  turned  on  peace. 

Already  have  our  quarrels  filled  the  world 

With  widows  and  with  orphans.     Scythia  mourns 

Our  guilty  wars,  and  earth's  remotest  regions 

Lie  half  unpeopled  by  the  feuds  of  Rome. 

'Tis  time  to  sheathe  the  sword,  and  spare  mankind. 

It  is  not  Caesar,  but  the  gods,  my  fathers  ; 

The  gods  declare  against  us,  and  repel 

Our  vain  attempts.     To  urge  the  foe  to  battle 

(Prompted  by  blind  revenge  and  wild  despair) 

Were  to  refuse  the  awards  of  Providence, 

And  not  to  rest  in  Heaven's  determination. 

Already  have  we  shown  our  love  to  Rome  : 

Now  let  us  show  submission  to  the  gods. 

We  took  up  arms,  not  to  revenge  ourselves, 

But  free  the  commonwealth  :  when  this  end  fails, 

Arms  have  no  further  use  ;  —  our  country's  cause, 

That  drew  our  swords,  now  wrests  them  from  our  hands, 

And  bids  us  not  delight  in  Roman  blood 

Unprofitably  shed.     What  men  could  do 

Is  done  already  :  heaven  and  earth  will  witness, 

If  Rome  must  fall,  that  we  are  innocent. 


Speech   of  Cato.—  Addison. 

Let  us  uppear  nor  rash  nor  diffident : 
Immoderate  vaior  swells  into  a  fault; 
And  fear,  admitted  into  public  councils, 
Betrays,  like  treason.      Lei  us  shun  them  both. 


U'2  ROSS'S   SPEAKER. 

Fathers,  I  cannot  see  that  our  affairs 

Are  grown  thus  desperate  :  we  have  bulwarks  round  us 

Within  our  walls  are  troops  inured  to  toil 

In  Afric's  heats,  and  seasoned  to  the  sun : 

Numidia's  spacious  kingdom  lies  behind  us, 

Ready  to  rise  at  its  young  prince's  call. 

While  there  is  hope,  do  not  distrust  the  gods ; 

But  wait,  at  least,  till  Caesar's  near  approach 

Force  us  to  yield.     'Twill  never  be  too  late 

To  sue  for  chains  and  own  a  conqueror. 

Why  should  Rome  fall  a  moment  ere  her  time  ? 

No,  let  us  draw  her  term  of  freedom  out 

In  its  full  length,  and  spin  it  to  the  last. 

So  shall  we  gain  still  one  day's  liberty. 

And  let  me  perish,  but,  in  Cato's  judgment, 

A  day,  an  hour,  of  virtuous  liberty 

Is  worth  a  whole  eternity  in  bondage. 


Political  Conservatism.— William  Brainard  Spenceb* 

[The  Jive  articles  which  follow,  in  this  connection,  constitute  the  grad- 
uating speech  of  a  young  Louisianian  of  great  promise.  It  dates  from 
Centenary  College  of  Louisiana,  July,  1855,  and  has  only  been  subjected 
to  such  change  as  was  necessary  to  detach  the  several  numbers.] 

The  storms  of  war  are  gathering  thick  about  us.  The  disso- 
nant thunder  of  artillery  shakes  the  colossal  monuments  of 
classic  Greece,  portending  a  tempest  which  shall  rock  and  con- 
vulse nations  and  empires  to  their  centers.  As  men,  as  philan- 
tnropists,  as  members  of  a  great  and  growing  republic,  it 
behooves  us  to  pause,  and  consider,  calmly  and  dispassionately, 
our  condition.  Like  skillful  mariners,  whilst  yet  the  storm 
thunders  in  the  distance,  let  us  sound  the  waters  beneath  us ; 
let  us  take  our  latitude  and  longitude,  ascertain  our  true  position, 
and  determine  our  future  course.  If  there  be,  in  this  vast 
assembly,  one  heart  that  beats  warmly  in  the  cause  of  humanity, 
one  breast  that  feels  the  generous  impulse  of  philanthropy,  let 
that  one  —  let  all  such  —  pause,  ere  he  determines  to  act.  Such 
is  the  policy  wisdom  would  recommend,  such  the  precaution 
prudence  would  suggest. 

We  know  that  there  are  among  us  far-seeing  individuals  — 

*  A  nephew  of  General  Caaa. 


POLITICAL    CONSERVATISM.  113 

would-be  political  seers,  with  sharper  ken,  perhaps,  than  is  usu- 
ally possessed  —  who,  whilst  gazing  far  out  into  the  dim  distance 
of  future  ages  —  whilst  watching  the  tide  of  empire,  in  its  pro- 
spective ebb  and  flow —  foresee  advantages  of  stupendous  magni- 
tude, of  inconceivable  importance,  rising  from  the  troubled 
waters  of  European  politics,  like  Venus  from  the  ocean  spray ! 
We  know,  too,  that  there  are  those  who  might  be  called  political 
astrologers ;  whose  telescopic  eye,  annihilating  distance,  and 
following,  with  mathematical  accuracy,  the  tortuous  peregrina- 
tions of  the  star  of  empire,  as  it  mounts  to  its  zenith,  or  sinks  to 
its  nadir,  descries  order,  rising,  like  the  sun,  from  the  bosom  of 
chaos  ;  wisdom,  emerging  from  the  gloomy  folds  of  ignorance  ; 
and  equality,  leaping,  full-fledged  and  Minerva-like,  from  ine- 
quality and  despotism  of  the  deepest  dye.  But  with  these  sooth^ 
saying  politicians,  who  seem  gifted  with  prophetic  vision,  —  who 
need  only  see  an  antecedent,  a  cause,  and  their  capacious  minds 
rest  in  a  conclusion,  without  the  aid  of  a  reasoning  process,  (that 
feeble  instrument  of  less  gifted  minds,)  — with  these  we  have 
nothing  to  do. 

Let  us  descend,  then,  from  the  lofty  regions  of  prophecy  to 
the  humbler  teachings  of  common  sense  —  to  the  dictations  of 
groveling  reason ;  which,  if  it  affords  us  not  so  entrancing  a 
panorama,  will,  at  least  in  a  majority  of  cases,  give  us  a  more 
solid  foundation  upon  which  to  build  our  calculations.  There 
are  those  who  plainly  discern,  in  the  present  struggle  of  Euro- 
pean nations,  the  dawn  of  civil  and  religious  liberty  —  the  advent 
and  reign  of  the  Prince  of  Peace  ;  and  would  fain  persuade 
themselves,  that,  not  far  beyond  the  horizon  of  a  trained  eye. 
we  might  hail  the  glorious  tints  which  herald  the  advent  of  the 
millennium,  "  when  the  lion  and  the  lamb  shall  lie  down  togeth- 
er,"— "  when  righteousness  and  peace  shall  kiss  each  other." 
If  experience  will  warrant  this  conclusion,  history  has  been  read 
lo  little  purpose.  If  reason  and  argument  will  sustain  it,  logic 
is  deceptive,  and  the  plainest  principles  without  foundation. 

Who  does  not  see,  that,  in  the  great  struggles  of  the  Napole- 
onic age,  the  fetters  of  despotism  were  riveted  more  firmly  ?  that 
they  were  strengthened  and  multiplied  upon  the  nations  by  a 
twofold  process  ?  Not  only  were  the  people  impoverished,  and 
their  political  importance  diminished,  but  the  reins  of  govern- 
ment, already  drawn  to  the  utmost  tension,  were  grasped  with  a 
yet  firmer  hand,  and  wielded  by  a  yet  more  iron  will.  Political 
power  was  usurped  and  consolidated  by  crowned  heads.  France, 
who  struggled  with  the  energy  of  a  giant,  fell  prostrate  before 
(he  storm,  received  new  fetters  of  oppression,  and  bowed  to  a 

8 


114  BOSS'S  SPEAKJEK. 

yet  heavier  yoke  of  despotism.  Even  constitutional  England 
felt  that  her  liberties  were  impaired,  and  her  rights  infringed,  by 
an  accumulation  of  power  in  the  hands  of  her  executive.  And 
does  not  all  experience  prove  and  testify  that  wars  of  this  kind 
—  wars  not  based  upon  an  intelligent  perception  of  the  rights 
of  the  people  —  that  they  must  necessarily  and  inevitably  result 
in  an  accumulation  and  centralization  of  power  in  the  hands  of 
a  few  ?  This  is  the  invariable  sequence.  Then  let  us  shun  it, 
as  we  would  the  deadly  shade  of  the  Upas. 


The  Same,  continued. 

Reason  guarantees  the  conclusion,  that  long  and  destructive 
wars  must  necessarily  result  in  the  moral,  intellectual,  and  polit- 
ical prostration  of  the  people,  and  in  the  utter  mendicancy  of 
nations.  The  great  corner  stones,  upon  which  alone  the  temple 
of  constitutional  liberty  can  be  erected  and  sustained,  are  intelli- 
gence and  morality.  And  here  we  would  ask,  "  How  can  a 
nation  —  how  can  the  world  —  advance  in  the  one  or  the  other, 
whilst  war's  destructive  blast  breathes  desolation  over  seas  and 
continents,  and  shakes  pestilence  and  famine  from  its  dusky 
wings  ?  "  War !  it  is  the  fruitful  mother  of  moral  depravity, 
the  charnel  house  of  education,  and  the  great  school  of  military 
insubordination.  It  is  the  hideous  monster  who  devours  without 
benefit,  and  consumes  without  producing.  Then  cast  hither 
your  eyes,  ye  political  seers,  and  tell  us  what  benefits  will 
accrue  from  these  bloody  conflicts  of  the  east. 

The  thunder  of  the  cannon  shakes  the  land ;  nations  stand 
marshaled  "  in  all  the  pomp  and  circumstance  of  glorious  war ; " 
whilst  wan  Famine,  with  a  ghastly  smile  playing  on  her  horrid 
features,  shakes  her  emaciated  finger  at  beggared  nations  and 
bankrupt  governments.  The  great  channels  of  commerce  — 
those  fountains  of  national  prosperity  —  are  clogged  up  with 
embargoes  and  blockades.  Industry  has  laid  aside  the  implements 
of  peace  —  "the  distaff  and  the  loom"  —  to  wield  the  battle-ax. 
And  for  what  ?  Are  the  nations,  are  the  people,  to  be  made 
more  enlightened,  more  moral,  or  more  free  ?  The  idea  is  pre- 
posterous !  The  liberty  and  happiness  of  the  world  must  be 
wrought  out  by  other  and  different  means. 

What,  then,  is  th3  grand  object  of  these  bloody  struggles? 
Why,  if  the  truth  ware  known,  simply  to  cast  new  fetters  for 
the  people ;  but,  ostensibly,  to  maintain  a  metaphysical  numbug 


POLITICAL   CONSERVATISM.  115 

—  "  a  balance  of  power  "  —  that  great  hobby  of  scheming  poli- 
ticians and  political  buccaneers,  whereby  the  clock  of  the  world, 
which  has  so  long  beat  the  march  of  progress,  will  go  back  a 
century.  But  we  are  told  that  this  can  not  last ;  that  the  people 
will  eventually  become  tired  of  these  things ;  that  the  tyrants  of 
Europe  will  be  swept  away  on  the  blast  of  popular  indignation ; 
that  an  exasperated  people  will  rise  up  to  take  vengeance  upon 
its  oppressors. 

This  may  all  be ;  but  what  good  will  it  effect  ?  Will  the 
people  —  w'ill  the  world  —  be  benefited  by  these  terrific  convul- 
sions, these  bloody  paroxysms  of  rage  ?  How  can  they  be  ? 
You  may  goad  the  lion  to  desperation,  but  he  can  do  nothing  but 
devour ;  he  will  tear  down,  but  can  not  build  up.  Do  present 
circumstances  favor  the  moral  and  intellectual  development  of 
the  masses?  Vain,  indeed,  is  it  to  talk  of  independence  with- 
out enlightenment  —  of  liberty  without  intelligence.  The  people 
of  Europe  may  cast  aside  the  chains  of  a  master,  but  they  will 
be  put  into  the  stocks  of  a  tyrant. 

If,  then,  such  wholesale  misery  is  to  be  entailed  upon  human- 
ity ;  if  kings  and  princes  are  to  be  mere  bubbles,  blown  upon 
the  political  ocean  by  the  popular  breath  —  the  mere  ephemeral 
creations  of  an  ignorant,  frantic,  and  fanatic  people,  who  are 
unwilling  to  support,  but  unable  to  throw  off,  the  burdens  of 
political  oppression ;  in  a  word,  if  they  are  to  be  flitting  phan- 
tasms, which  dance  for  a  moment  before  the  eye  of  distempered 
popular  ignorance,  —  would  it  not  be  a  safer  and  wiser  policy 
even  for  the  rulers  of  Europe  to  lay  aside  their  family  feuds 
and  metaphysical  balances,  and  yield  t^  the  spirit  of  the  age, 
which  is  onward  ?  Is  it  not  better  to  suffer  in  the  hands  of 
enlightened  justice  than  to  become  the  victim  of  Jacobin  fury  < 
Let  them  weigh  well  their  own  interests,  and  determine  accu- 
rately their  own  situations,  before  they  go  farther. 


Tfie  Same,  continued. 

England,  that  prince  of  nations, —  England,  whose  hoarded 
wealth  ought  to  surpass  the  wildest  dreams  of  gold-dreaming 
alchymy,  or  the  storied  treasures  of  Ophir,  —  now  stands,  by  her 
war  policy,  tottering  on  the  brink  of  bankruptcy  and  revolution 
A  thousand  millions  of  public  debt,  hanging  lil<<;  a  deadly  incubu* 
about  her;  a  [anguishing  industry;  an  impeded  commerce;  an], 
worse  man  all,  a  huge  army  of  beggared  soldiers  threatening  to 


116  KOSS'S   SPEAKER. 

sink  her  amid  the  storms  of  conflict !  The  palmiest  days  of  the 
English  lion  are  evidently  numbered  in  the  past. 

And  France,  honored  and  beloved  France  —  the  desolating 
wars  of  a  thousand  years  have  not  yet  taught  her  wisdom.  She 
has  forgotten  that  the  days  of  dragon's  teeth  are  past,  and  that 
men  no  longer  spring  up,  as  by  magic,  ready  armed  and  pano- 
plied for  battle.  A  Utopian  dreamer  has  usurped  her  liberties, 
and  now  sacrifices  hecatombs  of  her  brave  sons  on  a  foreign 
strand,  in  the  vain  hope  of  realizing  the  ambitious,  exploded 
undertakings  of  a  great  but  misguided  predecessor.  Let  Louis 
Napoleon  tremble.  His  dreams  of  conquest  will  be  waked  by 
the  thunders  of  retribution.  A  breath  made  him  a  king ;  a 
breath  will  make  him  a  beggar  and  a  criminal.  Successful 
treason  led  him  to  a  throne ;  successful  treason  will  lead  him  to 
a  guillotine.  The  wrath  of  a  deluded  nation  will  burst,  in  fear- 
ful storms,  upon  his  guilty  head. 

If,  then,  these  things  be  true  of  centralized,  consolidated, 
monarchical  governments,  wielded  by  the  energy  of  a  single 
will,  who  can  not  foresee  the  evils  which  a  war  policy  would 
inflict  upon  a  country  like  our  own  ?  War  is  not  the  element 
of  a  confederated  government.  There  is  not  that  unity  of  ac- 
tion, that  secrecy  of  design,  that  celerity  of  movement,  which 
alone  insure  success.  But,  in  contravention  of  all  this,  we  are 
told  that  America  is  a  great  country,  and  that  the  limits  of  her 
dominions  should  be  commensurate  with  the  extent  of  the  globe ; 
that  the  sun,  in  time,  will  never  rise  upon  her  spacious  bounds, 
nor  set  upon  her  illimitable  empire. 

"  Seas  roll  to  waft  me  —  suns  to  light  me  rise ; 
My  footstool  earth,  my  canopy  the  skies." 

But  where  is  the  common  sense,  or  sound  policy,  in  such  Quix- 
otic ravings  as  this?  'Tis  the  idle  dream  of  a  distempered 
mind ;  the  vain  bawble  that  elicits  the  applause  of  crazy  fanati- 
cism ;  an  idea  at  once  warring  with  common  experience,  tran- 
scending the  bounds  of  rational  credulity,  and  breaking  down 
the  restrictions  which  nature,  God,  and  man  have  imposed  for 
the  common  good. 


The  Same,  confirmed. 

It  is  indeed  true  that  we  are  a  great  nation.  The  sun,  in  his 
lofty  march,  never  shone  upon  a  greater  —  nay,  upon  an  equal. 
Basea  upon  hnlf  a  continent,  she  stands  forth,  the  political  Pharos 


POLITICAL   CONSERVATISM.  117 

of  the  world  !  The  well-proportioned  columns,  the  symmetrical 
structure  of  constitutional  government,  rear  their  lofty  heads  in 
proud  sublimity,  in  solitary  grandeur,  above  the  western  waves. 
Lofty  mountains  and  wide-extended  plains,  inland  seas  and 
pilgrim  streams,  mark  out  her  giant  dimensions.  We  are  proud 
of  her  ;  we  love  her.  But  let  us  keep  constantly  in  mind  the 
important,  the  vital  truth,  that  unity  of  feeling  and  identity  of 
interest  are  the  great  fountains  which  alone  can  turn,  with  regu- 
larity and  forever,  the  nicely-balanced  wheels  of  a  well-con- 
structed government. 

It  is  lamentable,  but  not  less  true,  that  self-interest  wields  the 
arm  of  the  world,  and  is  the  mighty  lever  which  moves  and 
directs  the  actions  and  feelings  of  humanity.  Climate  and  situ- 
ation change  the  characters  and  modify  the  interests  of  men. 
How,  then,  can  you  expect  an  assimilation  in  manners  and  cus- 
toms —  a  union  —  among  adverse  races,  actuated  by  adverse 
motives,  and  led  by  adverse  interests  ?  Away,  then,  with  the 
gay  delusion  of  universal  empire ;  away  with  this  ultra,  pseudo- 
progressive  spirit  of  the  nineteenth  century !  Nature  is  consist- 
ent with  herself,  and  defies  the  puny,  paltry,  insignificant  efforts 
of  man  to  contravene  her  eternal  and  immutable  laws. 

There  is  a  limit  to  this  government,  as  well  as  to  all  others , 
and  experience  and  prudence  would  suggest  that  we  have  well 
nigh  attained  that  limit.  Let  us  not  draw  down  upon  ourselves 
the  bickering  thunder-shafts  of  disunion,  which  have  already 
swept,  with  such  fearful  violence,  over  our  heads.  Let  us  not 
nurse  the  storm,  and  cradle  the  hurricane,  which  is  to  demolish 
this  colossal  structure  of  republicanism.  Let  us  not  challenge 
the  retributions  of  nature,  by  repeating  the  dangerous  experi- 
ment of  further  extension.  The  great  champions,  who  breasted 
the  storm  of  1850,  are  gone.  Should  the  winds  of  civil  conten- 
tion again  blow  their  trumpets,  to  wreak  their  vengeance  upon 
this  happy  and  yet  prosperous  country,  who  will  assure  us  that 
we  shall  find  another  Clay,  Webster,  or  Calhoun,  to  speak  peace 
to  the  raging  elements,  or  pour  oil  upon  the  troubled  waters? 
Beware,  'hen,  lest,  in  grasping  after  the  golden  fruit  of  empire, 
you  topple  ,,vcr  the  precipice  of  destruction. 

Hut  they  tell  us,  principle  is  principle,  wherever  it  is  found; 
that  like  causes  must  produce  like  effects;  that  the  principles  of 
self-government  are  -is  applicable  to  a  world  as  to  a  province. 
Bui  does  this  prove  thai  the  world,  or  half  of  it,  can  be  united 
under  one  and  the  same  line  of  policy  —  under  one  government  > 
The  great  law  of  gravitation  is  the  same,  not  only  the  world 
over    hut    extends   to,  pervades,  ami   governs   the   stupendous 


118  ROSS'S   SPEAKER. 

mechanism  of  the  universe,  to  the  farthest  nebula  that  hangs  on 
the  outskirts  of  creation.  But  this  does  not  prove  that  its  action 
in  China  may  not  be  diametrically  opposite  to  its  action  on  this 
side  of  the  globe.  The  policy  of  a  country  must  vary  with  its 
circumstances,  and  with  the  character  and  condition  of  its  inhab- 
itants. The  policy  which  will  suit  one  portion  of  the  globe  will 
not  necessarily  suit  another. 

But  we  would  not  be  understood  as  wishing  to  curtail  the  do- 
minions of  civil  and  religious  liberty.  Far  from  it.  We  will 
go  as  far  as  the  farthest  in  wishing  them  God-speed  and  victory. 
We  would  hail  the  day  when  the  banners  of  republicanism 
should  be  planted  upon  the  poles  of  the  globe :  when  the  glad 
acclaim  of  redeemed  millions,  swelling  above  the  roar  of  the 
ocean  and  the  hoarse  thunder  of  the  storm,  should  proclaim 
from  experience,  "  Liberty  is  priceless ;  liberty  is  priceless ! " 
We  only  suggest  the  expediency  of  limiting  ourselves  to  proper 
bounds,  and  of  ceasing  to  grasp  after  new  territorial  acquisitions 
in  defiance  of  the  plainest  principles  of  prudence. 


The  Same,  concluded. 

We  are  already  rich  in  territory.  The  American  eagle, 
planting  one  foot  upon  the  Alleghanies,  and  the  other  upon  the 
Rocky  Mountains,  stretches  his  broad  pinions  over  half  a  conti- 
nent. What  need  we  more  ?  Let  us  cease,  then,  to  dream  of 
conquest,  save  by  the  force  of  example.  Let  us  adopt,  as  the 
inviolable  rule  of  action,  that  great  international  code  —  that 
symmetrical  structure,  which  has  been  built  upon  the  wreck  of 
ages.  Let  us  act  upon  its  broad  and  immutable  principles,  yield 
what  it  demands,  and  grasp  with  a  firm  hand  what  it  gives. 
Fight  for  justice,  not  for  empire,  if  fight  we  must. 

We  repeat,  again,  that  the  character  of  this  government  is 
not  suited  to  military  operations.  It  is  not  sufficiently  central- 
ized to  insure  success.  Let  us  welcome,  then,  the  rich  smile  of 
Ceres ;  but  shun,  if  we  are  able,  the  destructive  frowns  of  Mars. 
But,  aside  from  all  this,  even  if  victory,  in  every  struggle, 
should  perch  upon  our  standard  —  if  the  treasures  of  van- 
quished nations  should  be  poured  out  at  the  feet  of  our  triumph- 
ant armies  —  "'twould  be  but  a  losing  game."  Beware  of 
standing  armies  and  victorious  generals ;  beware  of  military 
insubordination,  that  bane  of  all  republics.  Our  liberties  may 
be  prostrated  beneath  the  feet  of  military  greatness  and  military 


POLITICAL   CONSERVATISM.  119 

licentiousness.     The  heel  of  a  conqueror  may  be  planted  upon 
the  constitution. 

Does  this  provoke  a  smile  ?  The  stern  Roman,  too,  would 
have  laughed  to  scorn  the  idea  of  a  victorious  Caesar  trampling 
down  the  sacred  prerogatives  of  Roman  citizens.  But  wouid 
Americans  propagate  the  inestimable  blessings  of  republican- 
ism ?  Would  they  behold  the  world  basking  beneath  the  genial 
influences  of  justice  and  equality  ?  Then  let  them  cease  to 
dream  of  proselyting  the  world  by  sword  argument  and  gun- 
powder logic.  War  will  neither  give  intelligence  nor  morality, 
peace  nor  prosperity ;  and  these  alone  are  the  Titan  energies 
which  must  work  out  the  deliverance  of  the  political  world. 

America  must  be  an  instructor,  not  an  avenger ;  the  great 
missionary  of  nations,  ministering  to  the  sorrowing  millions  of 
humanity,  like  an  angel  of  mercy  —  proclaiming  "peace  on 
earth,  and  good  will  to  men."  Let  her  be  the  great  political 
sun  in  the  heavens,  whose  benign,  resplendent,  and  powerful 
rays  shall  warm  into  life,  and  stimulate  into  action,  the  germi- 
nating elements  of  political  reformation,  and  wake  from  his 
embryo  sleep  the  young  giant  of  republicanism.  But  this  can 
not  be  effected  while  somber  war  clouds  float  over  and  obscure 
hei  radiant  and  burning  disk. 

Then  let  us  away  with  this  crusading,  all-grasping  spirit, 
which  prompts  and  directs  the  delusive  and  frantic  dreams  of 
young  America,  whose  patriotic  rapacity  vainly  expects  to  build 
up  and  sustain  constitutional  government  upon  the  wreck  of  na- 
tional honor  and  upon  the  dissolution  of  national  unity.  Let  us 
listen  no  longer  to  his  siren  songs  of  dominion,  nor  taste  his 
Circean  cup  of  conquest.  Let  us  close  our  ears  to  his  "  sono- 
rous metal,  blowing  martial  sounds,"  and  leave  the  young  hero 
to  pipe  out  his  war  strains  in  merited  oblivion.  Then  there  will 
be  heard  no  discordant  note  from  the  harp  of  republicanism, 
touched  in  unison  by  thirty-two  sister  planets,  rolling  in  grand 
perspective,  like  the  mighty  landmarks  of  God,  in  the  great  orbit 
prescribed  by  the  constitution.  No  constituent  member  will  be 
without  the  "sphere  of  influence."  Unity  of  interest,  unity  of 
thought,  and  unity  of  feeling  will  be  the  great  laws  of  gravita 
lion,  which  bind  and  sustain  in  one  harmonious  whole  the  greal 
planets  and  suns  of  this  governmental  system. 


[20  ROSS'S   SPEAKER. 


Unfounded  Prejudices  ;  or,  Aversion  subdued. 

AlKIN. 

Belford.  Pray,  who  is  the  present  possessor  of  the  Brookby 
estate  ? 

Arhury.     A  man  of  the  name  of  Goodwin. 

Bel.     Is  he  a  good  neighbor  to  you  ? 

Arb.  Far  from  it ;  and  I  wish  he  had  settled  a  hundred  miles 
off,  rather  than  come  here  to  spoil  our  neighborhood. 

Bel.  I  am  sorry  to  hear  that.  But  what  is  your  objection  to 
him  ? 

Arb.  O,  there  is  nothing  in  which  we  agree.  In  the  first 
place,  he  is  quite  of  the  other  side  in  politics;  and  that,  you 
know,  is  enough  to  prevent  all  intimacy. 

Bel.     1  am  not  entirely  of  that  opinion.     But  what  else  ? 

Arb.  He  is  no  sportsman,  and  refuses  to  join  in  our  associa- 
tion for  protecting  the  game.  Neither  does  he  choose  to  be  a 
member  of  any  of  our  clubs. 

Bel.     Has  he  been  asked  ? 

Arb.  I  do  not  know  that  he  has,  directly  ;  but  he  might 
easily  propose  himself,  if  he  liked  it.  But  he  is  of  a  close,  un- 
sociable temper,  and,  I  believe,  very  niggardly. 

Bel.     Flow  has  he  shown  it  ? 

Arb.  His  style  of  living  is  not  equal  to  his  fortune,  and  1 
have  heard  of  several  instances  of  his  attention  to  petty  economy. 

Bel.     Perhaps  he  spends  his  money  in  charity. 

Arb.  Not  he,  I  dare  say.  It  was  but  last  week  that  a  poor 
fellow,  who  had  lost  his  all  by  a  fire,  went  to  him  with  a  sub- 
scription paper,  in  which  were  the  names  of  all  the  gentlemen 
in  the  neighborhood  ;  and  the  only  answer  he  received  was,  that 
he  would  consider  of  it. 

Bel.     And  did  he  consider  ? 

Arb.  I  do  not  know,  but  I  suppose  it  was  only  an  excuse. 
Then  his  predecessor  had  a  park  well  stocked  with  deer,  and 
used  to  make  liberal  presents  of  venison  to  all  his  neighbors. 
But  this  frugal  gentleman  has  sold  them  all  off,  and  keeps  a 
flock  of  sheep  instead  of  them. 

Bel.     I  do  not  see  much  harm  in  that,  now  mutton  is  so  dear. 

Arb.  To  be  sure,  he  has  a  right  to  do  as  he  pleases  with  his 
park ;  but  that  is  not  the  way  to  be  beloved,  you  know.  As  to 
myself,  I  have  reason  to  think  he  bears  me  particular  ill  will. 

Bel.  Then  he  is  much  in  the  wrong ;  for  I  presume  you  are 
as  [ree  from  ill  will  to  others  as  any  man  living.  But  how  has 
he  shown  it,  pray  ? 


JNl'OUNDED  P1UEJUDICES.  12, 

Arb.  In  twenty  instances.  He  had  a  horse  upon  sale,  the 
other  diy,  to  which  I  took  a  liking,  and  bid  money  for  it.  As 
soon  as  he  found  I  wanted  it,  he  sent  it  off  to  a  fair,  in  another 
part  of  the  country.  My  wife,  you  know,  is  passionately  fond 
of  cultivating  flowers.  Riding  lately  by  his  grounds,  she  ob- 
served something  new,  and  took  a  great  longing  for  a  root  or 
cutting  of  it.  My  gardener  mentioned  her  wish  to  his,  (con- 
trary, I  own,  to  my  inclination,)  and  he  told  his  master;  but, 
instead  of  obliging  her,  he  charged  the  gardener  on  no  account 
to  touch  the  plant.  A  little  while  ago,  I  turned  off  a  man  for 
saucy  behavior ;  but,  as  he  had  lived  many  years  with  me,  and 
was  a  very  useful  servant,  I  meant  to  take  him  again,  upon  his 
submission,  which  I  did  not  doubt  would  soon  happen.  Instead 
of  that,  he  goes  and  offers  himself  to  my  civil  neighbor,  who, 
without  deigning  to  apply  to  me  even  for  a  character,  engages 
him  immediately.  In  short,  he  has  not  the  least  of  a  gentleman 
about  him,  and  I  would  give  any  thing  to  be  well  rid  of  him. 

fitl.  Nothing,  to  be  sure,  can  be  more  unpleasant,  in  the 
country,  than  a  bad  neighbor,  and  I  am  concerned  it  is  your  lot 
to  have  one.  But  there  is  a  man  who  seems  as  if  he  wanted  to 
speak  with  you. 

{A  countryman  approaches.} 

Arb.  Ah!  it  is  the  poor  fellow  that  was  burned  out.  Well 
Richard,  how  do  you  succeed  ?  What  has  the  subscription  pro- 
duced you  ? 

Richard.  Thank  your  honor  —  my  losses  are  nearly  all 
made  up. 

Arb.  I  am  very  glad  of  that;  but,  when  I  saw  the  papei 
last,  it  did  not  reach  half  way. 

Rich.  It  did  not,  sir ;  but  you  may  remember  asking  mt 
what  Mr.  Goodwin  had  done  for  me,  and  I  told  you  he  took  time 
to  consider  of  it.  Well,  sir,  I  found  that,  the  very  next  day,  he 
had  been  at  our  town,  and  had  made  very  particular  inquiry 
about  me  and  my  losses,  among  my  neighbors.  When  I  called 
upon  him,  a  few  days  after,  he  told  me  he  was  very  glad  to  find 
thai  I  bore  such  a  good  character,  and  that  the  gentlemen  round 
had  so  kindly  taken  up  my  case;  and  he  would  prevent  the  ne- 
cessity of  my  going  any  farther  for  relief.  Upon  which  he  gave 
me  —  God  bless  him!  —  a  draft  upon  his  banker  for  two  hun- 
dred dollars. 

Arb.      Two  hundred  dollars! 

Rich.  Yes,  sir.  It  has  made  me  quite  my  own  man  again 
mid  I  am  now  going  to  purchase  ;i  new  cart  and  team  of  horses 

Arb.     A  noble  g  ft,  indeed      I  could  never  have  thought  it 


{•22  ROSS'S   SPEAKER. 

Well,  Richard,  I  rejoice  at  your  good  fortune.     1  am  sure  you 
are  much  obliged  to  Mr.  Goodwin. 

Rich.  Indeed  I  am,  sir,  and  to  all  my  good  friends.  God 
bless  you,  sir.     (Exit.) 

Bel.     Niggardliness,  at  lexst,  is  not  this  man's  foible. 

Arb.  No.  I  was  mistaken  in  tbat  point.  I  wronged  him, 
and  I  am  sorry  for  it.  But  what  a  pity  it  is  that  men  of  real 
generosity  should  not  be  amiable  in  their  manners,  and  as  ready 
to  oblige  in  trifles  as  in  matters  of  consequence  ! 

Bel.     True,  it  is  a  pity,  when  that  is  really  the  case. 

Arb.  How  much  less  an  exertion  it  would  have  been  to  have 
shown  some  civility  about  a  horse  or  a  flower  root ! 

Bel.  Speaking  of  flowers,  there  is  your  gardener  coming, 
with  a  large  one  in  a  pot. 

(Enter  Gardener.) 

Arb.     Now,  James,  what  have  you  there  ? 

Gardener.     A  flower,  sir,  for  madam,  from  Mr.  Goodwin's. 

Arb.     How  did  you  come  by  it  ? 

Gard.  His  gardener,  sir,  sent  me  word  to  come  for  it.  We 
should  have  had  it  before,  but  Mr.  Goodwin  thought  it  could  not 
be  moved  safely. 

Arb.     I  hope  he  has  more  of  them. 

Gard.  He  has  only  a  seedling  plant  or  two,  sir ;  but,  hear- 
ing that  madam  took  a  liking  to  this,  he  was  resolved  to  send  it 
to  her ;  and  a  choice  thing  it  is.  I  have  a  note  for  madam  in 
my  pocket. 

Arb.     Well,  take  it  home.     (Exit  Gardener.) 

Bel.     Methinks  this  does  not  look  like  deficiency  in  civility. 

Arb.  No  ;  it  is  a  very  polite  action  ;  1  cannot  deny  it,  and  I 
am  obliged  to  him  for  it.  Perhaps,  indeed,  he  may  feel  he  owes 
me  a  little  amends. 

Bel.     Possibly.     It  shows  he  can  feel,  most  certainly. 

Arb.  It  does.  Ha !  there  is  Yorkshire  Tom  coming  from 
the  fair.  I  will  step  up,  and  speak  to  him.  Well,  Tom,  how 
have  horses  stone  at  Market  Hill  ? 

Tom.     Dear  enough,  your  honor. 

Arb.  How  much  more  did  you  get  for  Mr.  Goodwin's  mare 
than  I  offered  him  ? 

Tom.  Ah,  sir,  that  was  not  an  animal  for  your  riding,  and 
Mr.  Goodwin  well  knew  it.  You  never  saw  such  a  vicious  crea- 
ture. She  liked  to  have  killed  the  groom,  two  or  three  times. 
So  I  was  ordered  to  offer  her  to  the  mail  coach  people,  and  get 
what  1  could  from  them.  I  might  have  sold  her  to  better  advan- 
tage, if  Mr.  Goodwin  would  have  let  me ;  for  she  wax  as  fine  a 
creature  to  look  at  as  need  be,  and  quite  sound. 


UNBOUNDED   PREJUDICES.  123 

Arb.  And  was  that  the  true  reason,  Tom,  why  the  mare  was 
not  sold  to  me  ? 

Tom.     It  was,  indeed,  sir. 

Arb.  Then  I  am  highly  obliged  to  Mr.  Goodwin.  (Ton 
t>oes.)     This  was  handsome  behavior,  indeed! 

Bel.  Yes,  I  think  it  was  somewhat  more  than  politeness :  it 
was  real  goodness  of  heart. 

Arb.  It  was.  I  find  I  must  alter  my  opinion  of  him,  and  1 
do  it  with  pleasure.  But,  after  all,  his  conduct  with  respect  to 
my  servant  is  somewhat  unaccountable. 

Bel.  I  see  reason  to  think  so  well  of  him  in  relation  to  most 
transactions,  that  I  am  inclined  to  hope  he  will  be  acquitted  in 
this  matter,  too. 

Arb.  There  comes  Ned  now  ;  1  wonder  that  he  has  my  old 
lvery  on  yet. 

(Ned  approaches,  pulling  ojf  his  hat.) 

Ned.     Sir,  I  was  coming  to  your  honor  to 

Arb.     What  can  you  have  to  say  to  me  now,  Ned  ? 

Ned.  To  ask  pardon,  sir,  for  my  misbehavior,  and  beg  you 
to  take  me  again. 

Arb.     What,  have  you  so  soon  parted  with  your  new  master? 

Ned.  Mr.  Goodwin  never  was  my  master,  sir.  He  only  kept 
me  in  his  house  till  I  could  make  up  with  vou  again ;  for  he  said 
he  was  sure  you  were  too  honorable  a  gentleman  to  turn  off  an 
old  servant,  without  good  reason,  and  he  hoped  you  would  admit 
my  excuses  after  your  anger  was  over. 

Arb.     Did  he  say  all  that  ? 

Ned.  Yes,  sir ;  and  he  advised  me  not  to  delay  any  longer 
asking  your  pardon. 

Arb.  Well,  go  to  my  house,  and  I  will  talk  with  you  on  my 
return. 

Bel.     Now,  my  friend,  what  think  you  of  this  ? 

Arb.  1  think  more  than  I  can  well  express.  It  will  be  a  les- 
son to  me  never  to  make  hasty  judgments  again. 

Bel.  Why,  indeed,  to  have  concluded  that  such  a  man  had 
nothing  of  the  gentleman  about  him,  must  have  been  rather 
hasty. 

Arb.  1  acknowledge  it.  But  it  is  the  misfortune  of  these 
reserved  characters,  that  they  are  so  long  in  making  themselves 
known;  though,  when  they  are  known,  they  often  prove  the 
most  t-uly  estimable.  I  am  afraid,  even  now,  that  I  must  be 
rontcnt  with  esteeming  him  at  a  distance. 

Bel.     Why  so  ? 

Arb.     You  know  I  am  of  an  open,  sociable  disposition. 


124  ROSSS   SPEAKER. 

Bel.     Perhaps  he  is  so,  too. 

Arb.  If  lie  was,  surely  we  should  have  been  better  acquaint 
ed  before  this  time. 

Bel.  It  may  have  been  prejudice,  rather  than  temper,  tha 
has  kept  you  asunder. 

Arb.  Possibly  so.  That  vile  spirit  of  party  has  such  a  sway 
in  the  country,  that  men  of  the  most  liberal  dispositions  can 
hardly  free  themselves  from  its  influence.  It  poisons  all  the 
kindness  of  society ;  and  yonder  comes  an  instance  of  its  perni- 
cious effects. 

Bel.     Who  is  he  ? 

Arb.  A  poor  schoolmaster,  with  a  large  family,  in  the  next 
market  town,  who  has  lost  all  his  scholars  by  his  activity  on  our 
side  in  the  last  election.  I  heartily  wish  it  was  in  my  power  to 
do  something  for  him  ;  for  he  is  a  very  honest  man,  though  per- 
haps rather  too  ardent. 

{The  schoolmaster  comes  up.) 

Arb.     Well,  Mr.  Penman,  how  go  things  with  you  ? 

Penman.  I  thank  you,  sir,  they  have  gone  poorly  enough, 
but  1  hope  they  are  in  the  way  to  mend. 

Arb.     I  am  glad  to  hear  it ;  but  how  ? 

Pen.  Why,  sir,  the  free  school  of  Stoke  is  vacant,  and  I  be- 
lieve I  am  likely  to  get  it. 

Arb.  Ah  !  I  wonder  at  that.  1  thought  it  was  in  the  hands 
of  the  other  party. 

Pen.  It  is,  sir ;  but  Mr.  Goodwin  has  been  so  kind  as  tc 
give  me  a  recommendation,  and  his  interest  is  sufficient  to 
carry  it. 

Arb.     Mr.  Goodwin  !  you  surprise  me. 

Pen.  I  was  much  surprised,  too,  sir.  He  sent  for  me  of  his 
own  accord,  (for  I  should  never  have  thought  of  asking  a  favor 
from  him,)  and  told  me  he  was  sorry  a  man  should  be  injured  in 
his  profession  on  account  of  party  ;  and,  as  I  could  not  live  com- 
fortably where  I  was,  he  would  try  to  settle  me  in  a  better  place. 
So  he  mentioned  the  vacancy  of  Stoke,  and  offered  me  letters  to 
the  trustees.  I  was  never  so  afFected  in  my  life,  sir.  I  could 
hardly  speak  to  return  him  thanks.  He  kept  me  to  dinner,  and 
treated  me  with  the  greatest  respect.  Indeed,  I  believe  there  i« 
not  a  kinder  man  breathing  than  Mr.  Goodwin. 

Arb.  You  have  the  best  reason  in  the  world  for  saying  so, 
Mr.  Penman.     What,  did  he  converse  familiarly  with  you  ? 

Pen.  Quite  so,  sir.  We  talked  a  great  deal  about  party  af- 
fairs in  this  neighborhood  ;  and  he  lamented  much  that  differ- 
ences of  this  kind  should  keep  worthy  men  at  a  distance  from 


RESISTANCE    TO    OITRESSION.  1^5 

each  other.  I  took  the  liberty,  sir,  of  mentioning  your  name. 
He  said  he  had  not  the  honor  of  being  acquainted  with  you,  but 
that  he  had  a  sincere  esteem  for  vour  character,  and  should  bo 
glad  of  any  occasion  to  cultivate  a  friendship  with  you.  For  mv 
part,  I  confess,  to  my  shame,  I  did  not  think  there  could  have 
been  such  a  man  on  that  side. 

Arb.      Well,  good  morning. 

Pen.     Your  most  obedient,  sir.     (He  goes.) 

Arb.  (After  some  silence.)     Come,  my  friend,  let  us  go. 

Bel.     Whither  ? 

Arb.  Can  you  doubt  ?  To  Mr.  Goodwin's,  to  be  sure.  Af- 
ter all  that  I  have  heard,  can  I  exist  a  moment  without  acknowl- 
edging the  injustice  I  have  done  him,  and  soliciting  his  friend- 
ship ? 

Bel.  I  shall  be  happy,  I  am  sure,  to  accompany  you  on  that 
errand.     But  who  is  to  introduce  us  ? 

Arb.    What  is  form  and  ceremony  in  a  case  like  this  ?    Come 
come. 

Bel.     Most  willingly. 


Resistance  to  Oppression  in  its  Rudiments. 

Daniel  Webster. 

Every  encroachment,  great  or  small,  is  important  enough  to 
awaken  the  attention  of  those  who  are  intrusted  with  the  preser- 
vation of  a  constitutional  government.  We  are  not  to  wait  till 
great  public  mischiefs  come,  till  the  government  is  overthrown, 
or  liberty  itself  put  in  extreme  jeopardy.  We  should  nut  be 
worthy  sons  of  our  fathers,  were  we  so  to  regard  great  ques- 
tions, affecting  the  general  freedom.  These  fathers  accomplished 
the  revolution  on  a  strict  question  of  principle.  The  Parliament 
of  Great  Britain  asserted  a  right  to  tax  the  colonies  in  all  cases 
whatsoever  ;  and  it  was  precisely  on  this  question  that  they  made 
the  revolution  turn.  The  amount  of  taxation  was  trifling,  but 
the  claim  itself  was  inconsistent  with  liberty  ;  and  that  was,  in 
their  eyes,  enough.  It  was  against  the  recital  of  an  act  of  Par- 
liament, ratlier  than  against  any  suffering  under  its  enactments, 
that  they  took  up  arms. 

They  went  to  war  against  a  preamble.  They  fought  seven 
years  againsl  a  declaration.  They  poured  out  their  treasures 
and  their  blood,  like'  water,  in  a  contest  in  opposition  in  an  as- 
sertion, which  those  less  sagacious,  and   not  so  well  schooled  in 

F* 


126  ROSS'S   SPEAKER. 

the  principles  of  civil  liberty,  would  have  regarded  as  barren 
phraseology,  or  mere  parade  of  words.  They  saw  in  the  claim 
of  the  British  Parliament  a  seminal  principle  of  mischief,  the 
germ  of  unjust  power;  they  detected  it,  dragged  it  forth  from 
underneath  its  plausible  disguises,  struck  at  it ;  nor  did  it  elude 
either  their  steady  eye,  or  their  well-directed  blow,  till  they  had 
extirpated  and  destroyed  it,  to  the  smallest  fibre.  On  this  ques- 
tion of  principle,  while  actual  suffering  was  yet  afar  off,  they 
raised  their  flag  against  a  power  to  which,  for  purposes  of  for- 
eign conquest  and  subjugation,  Rome,  in  the  height  of  her  glory, 
is  not  to  be  compared ;  a  power  which  has  dotted  over  the  sur- 
face of  the  whole  globe  with  her  possessions  and  military  posts ; 
whose  morning  drum-beat,  following  the  sun,  and  keeping 
company  with  the  hours,  circles  the  earth  daily  with  one  con- 
tinuous and  unbroken  strain  of  the  martial  airs  of  England. 


The  Long  Ago.  —  Anon. 

[It  requires  not  especially  "sentiment"  to  appreciate  the  lines -which 
ensue.  Feeling,  deep,  true  feeling,  is  their  characteristic ;  and  they  who 
look  upon  the  loved  and  lost,  who  have  gone  before,  will  feel  them  in 
their  "  heart  of  hearts."] 

O,  a  wonderful  stream  is  the  river  Time, 
As  it  runs  through  the  realms  of  tears, 
With  a  faultless  rhythm,  and  a  musical  rhyme, 
And  a  broader  sweep,  and  a  surge  sublime, 
And  blends  with  the  ocean  of  years. 

How  the  winters  are  drifting  like  flakes  of  snow, 

And  the  summers  like  buds  between, 
And  the  year  in  the  sheaf —  so  they  come  and  go 
On  the  river's  breast,  with  its  ebb  and  flow, 

As  it  glides  in  the  shadow  and  sheen. 

There's  a  magical  isle  up  the  river  Time, 

Where  the  softest  of  airs  are  playing ; 
There's  a  cloudless  sky,  and  a  tropical  clime, 
And  a  song  as  sweet  as  a  vesper  chime, 

And  the  Junes  with  the  roses  are  staying. 

And  the  name  of  this  isle  is  the  Long  Ago 
And  we  bury  our  treasures  there ; 


KRUFT10N    OF   COSAGUINA.  127 

There  are  brows  of  beauty,  and  bosoms  of  snow  — 
There  are  heaps  of  dust,  but  we  love  them  so !  — 
There  are  trinkets  and  tresses  of  hair. 

There  are  fragments  of  song  that  nobody  sings, 

And  a  part  of  an  infant's  prayer ; 
There's  a  lute  unswept  and  a  harp  without  strings , 
There  are  broken  vows  and  pieces  of  rings, 

And  the  garments  that  she  used  to  wear. 


& 


There  are  hands  that  are  waved  when  the  fairy  shore 

By  the  mirage  is  lifted  in  air  ; 
And  we  sometimes  hear,  through  the  turbulent  roar, 
Sweet  voices  we  heard  in  the  days  gone  before, 

When  the  wind  down  the  river  is  fair. 

0,  remembered  for  aye  be  the  blessed  isle, 

All  the  day  of  life  till  night. 
When  the  evening  comes,  with  its  beautiful  smile, 
And  our  eyes  are  closing  to  slumber  a  while, 

May  that  "  greenwood  "  of  soul  be  in  sight. 


Eruption  of  the  Volcano  of  Cosaguina, 

John  L.  Stephens. 

Following  the  coast,  at  eleven  o'clock  we  were  opposite  the 
volcano  of  Cosaguina,  a  long,  dark  mountain  range,  with  another 
ricge  running  below  it,  and  then  an  extensive  plain,  covered  with 
lava  to  the  sea.  The  wind  headed  us,  and,  in  order  to  weather 
the  point  of  headland  from  which  we  could  lay  our  course,  the 
boatmen  got  into  the  water  to  tow  the  bungo.  I  followed  them, 
and,  w  ith  a  broad-brimmed  straw  hat  to  protect  me  from  the 
sun,  I  found  the  water  was  delightful.  Unable,  however,  to 
weather  the  point,  at  half  past  one  we  came  to  anchor,  and  very 
si  inn  nearly  every  man  on  board  was  asleep. 

Before  me  was  the  volcano  of  Cosaguina,  with  its  field  <>f 
lava  and  its  desolate  shore,  and  not  a  living  being  was  in  sight 
except  my  Bleeping  boatmen.  Five  years  before,  on  the  shores 
of  the  Mediterranean,  and  at  the  foot  of  Mount  Etna,  I  read  in 
a  newspaper  an  account  of  the  eruption  of  this  volcano.  Little 
did  I  then  ever  expect  to  see  it;  the  most  awful  in  the  history  of 
volcanic  eruptions,  the  noise  of  which  startled   the  people  of 


12S  ROSS'S   SPEAKER. 

Guathnala,  four  hundred  miles  off,  and  at  Kingston,  Jamaica, 
eight  hundred  miles  distant,  was  supposed  to  be  signal  guns  of 
distress  from  some  vessel  at  sea. 

The  face  of  nature  was  changed  ;  the  cone  of  the  volcano  was 
£fone ;  a  mountain  and  field  of  lava  ran  down  to  the  sea ;  a  for- 
est old  as  creation  had  entirely  disappeared,  and  two  islands 
were  formed  in  the  sea;  shoals  were  discovered,  in  one  of  which 
a  large  tree  was  fixed  upside  down  ;  one  river  was  completely 
choked  up,  and  another  formed,  running  in  an  opposite  direction 
seven  men,  in  the  employ  of  my  bungo  proprietor,  ran  down  to 
the  water,  pushed  off  in  a  bungo,  and  were  never  heard  of 
more;  wild  beasts,  howling,  left  their  caves  in  the  mountains, 
and  ounces,  leopards,  and  snakes  fled  for  shelter  to  the  abodes 
of  men. 

Mr.  Savage,  the  American  consul,  was  on  that  day  on  the  side 
of  the  volcano  of  San  Miguel,  distant  one  hundred  and  twenty 
miles.  At  eight  o'clock  he  saw  a  dense  cloud  rising  in  the  south 
in  a  pyramidal  form,  and  heard  a  noise  which  sounded  like  the 
roaring  of  the  sea.  Very  soon  the  thick  clouds  were  lighted  up 
by  vivid  flashes,  rose-colored  and  forked,  shooting  and  disap- 
pearing, which  he  supposed  to  be  some  electrical  phenomenon. 
These  appearances  increased  so  fast,  that  the  men  whom  he  had 
in  his  employ  became  exceedingly  frightened,  believing,  as  they 
said,  that  the  end  of  the  world  was  approaching.  Very  soon  he 
himself  was  satisfied  that  it  was  the  eruption  of  a  volcano  ;  and 
as  Cosaguina  was  at  that  time  a  quiet  mountain,  not  suspected  tt 
contain  subterraneous  fires,  he  supposed  it  to  proceed  from  the 
volcano  of  Tigris. 

He  returned  to  the  town  of  San  Miguel,  which,  as  he  entered 
it,  felt,  in  quick  succession,  several  severe  shocks  of  earthquake. 
The  inhabitants  were  distracted  with  terror.  Birds  flew  wildly 
through  the  streets,  and,  blinded  by  the  dust,  fell  dead  on  the 
ground.  At  four  o'clock,  it  was  so  dark,  that,  as  Mr.  Savage 
says,  he  held  up  his  hand  before  his  eyes,  and  could  not  see  it. 
Nobody  moved  without  a  candle,  which  gave  a  dim  and  misty 
light,  extending  only  a  few  feet. 

At  this  time  the  church  was  full,  and  could  not  contain  half 
t/ho  wished  to  enter.  The  figure  of  the  Virgin  was  brought  out 
into  the  plaza,  and  borne  through  the  streets,  followed  by  the  in- 
habitants, with  candles  and  torches,  in  penitential  procession 
crying  upon  the  Lord  to  pardon  their  sins ;  bells  tolled ;  and 
during  the  procession  there  was  another  earthquake,  so  violent 
and  long  that  it  thr<  w  to  the  ground  many  people  walking  in  the 
procession.     The  darkness  continued  till  eleven  o'clock  the  n«xl 


TO    l'HE   EAGLE.  ,29 

day,  when  th<>  sun  was  partially  visible,  but  dim  and  hazy,  and 
without  any  brightness.  The  dust  on  the  ground  was  four  inches 
thick ;  the  branches  of  trees  broke  with  its  weight,  and  people 
were  so  dishuured  by  it  that  they  could  not  he  recognized. 

At  this  time  Mr.  Savage  set  out  for  his  hacienda  at  Zonzonate. 
Fie  slept  at  the  first  village,  and,  at  two  or  three  o'clock  in  the 
morning,  was  roused  by  a  report  like  the  breaking  of  most  ter- 
rific thurrjer,  or  the  firing  of  thousands  of  cannon.  This  was 
the  report  which  startled  the  people  of  Guatimala,  when  the 
commandant  sallied  out,  supposing  that  the  quartel  was  attacked 
and  wh';h  was  heard  at  Kingston  in  Jamaica. 


To  the  Eagle.  —  PbBOTY  AX- 


'S 


Bird  of  the  broad  and  sweeping  wing, 

Thy  home  is  high  in  heaven, 
Where  wide  the  storms  their  banners  fling, 

And  the  tempest  clouds  are  driven. 
Thy  throne  is  on  the  mountain  top ; 

Thy  fields,  the  boundless  air; 
And  hoary  peaks,  that  proudly  prop 

The  skies,  thy  dwellings  are. 

Lord  of  the  boundless  realm  of  air, 

In  thy  imperial  name 
The  hearts  of  the  bold  and  ardent  dare 

The  dangerous  path  of  fame, 
rteneath  the  shade  of  thy  golden  wings, 

The  Roman  legions  bore, 
From  the  river  of  Egypt's  cloudy  springs, 

Their  prifle,  to  the  polar  shore. 

For  thee  they  fought,  for  thee  they  fell, 

And  their  oath  was  on  thee  laid  ; 
To  thee  the  clarions  raised  their  swell, 

And  the  dying  warrior  praved. 
Thou  wert,  through  an  age  of  death  and  fears, 

The  image  of  pride  mid  power, 
Till  the  gathered  rage  of  a  thousand  vars 

Rurst  forth  in  one  awful  hour. 


'30  ROSS'S   SPEAKER. 

And  then,  a  deluge  of  wrath  it  came, 

And  the  nations  shook  with  dread  ; 
And  it  swept  the  earth,  till  its  fields  were  flame, 

And  piled  with  the  mingled  dead. 
Kings  were  rolled  in  the  wasteful  flood 

With  the  low  and  crouching  slave, 
And  together  lay,  in  a  shroud  of  blood, 

The  coward  and  the  brave. 

And  where  was  then  thy  fearless  flight  ? 

"  O'er  the  dark,  mysterious  sea, 
To  the  lands  that  caught  the  setting  light, 

The  cradle  of  Liberty. 
There,  on  the  silent  and  lonely  shore, 

For  ages,  I  watched  alone  ; 
And  the  world,  in  its  darkness,  asked  no  more 

Where  the  glorious  bird  had  flown. 

"  But  then  came  a  bold  and  hardy  few, 

And  they  breasted  the  unknown  wave ; 
I  caught  afar  the  wandering  crew, 

And  I  knew  they  were  high  and  brave. 
I  wheeled  around  the  welcome  bark, 

As  it  sought  the  desolate  shore ; 
And  up  to  heaven,  like  a  joyous  lark, 

My  quivering  pinions  bore. 

"  And  now  that  bold  and  hardy  few 

Are  a  nation  wide  and  strong ; 
And  danger  and  doubt  I  have  led  them  through, 

And  they  worship  me  in  song ; 
And  over  their  bright  and  glancing  arms, 

On  field,  and  lake,  and  sea, 
With  an  eye  that  fires,  and  a  spell  that  charms, 

I  guide  them  to  victory." 


Bonaparte.  —  e.  a.  Nisbet. 

From  an  island  of  the  middle  sea  came  the  man  of  destiny. 
No  title  graced  his  name,  no  heraldic  insignia  emblazoned  his 
shield.  Age  had  scarce  marked  him  with  the  impress  of  ma- 
turity, y?t  in  his  heart  fluttered  the  high  hopes,  and  around  his 


OX   RETURNING   TO  THE  UNITED   STATES.  13 

soul  circled  the  daring  resolves  of  unparalleled  genius.  With 
his  mind  and  his  good  sword  the  means,  and  glory  his  end,  he 
headed  the  soldiery.  He  bade  the  boiling  caldron  of  popular 
licentiousness  to  cease  its  bubblings,  and  it  yielded  to  his  incan- 
tations. He  seized  on  power  as  his  guerdon,  and  victory  was 
his  familiar  spirit.  The  antiquated  tactics  of  the  continent  dis- 
solved before  the  energy  of  the  conqueror,  like  frostwork  before 
the  sun  of  the  tropics ;  nor  alpine  hights,  nor  swollen  streams, 
nor  veteran  hosts,  nor  time,  nor  space,  could  limit  his  career. 
In  his  ire  he  scourged  the  nations,  and  in  his  complacency  he 
hushed  their  mournings  ;  around  him  he  scattered,  as  if  in  very 
wantonness,  scepters,  crowns,  and  diadems,  and  kingdoms  were 
to  him  but  holiday  souvenirs. 

Onward  was  his  watchword,  and  onward  he  marched,  over 
fallen  thrones,  and  vanquished  realms,  and  prostrate  systems. 
On  the  field  of  Waterloo  went  down  the  star  of  the  lord  para- 
mount of  Europe  ;  in  gloom,  'tis  true,  yet  still  in  glory ;  and  we 
must  yet  doubt  whether  it  was  most  conspicuous  in  the  blaze  of 
its  ascendant,  or  the  beauty  of  its  Occident.  His  name  attained 
to  an  elevation  of  sublimer  altitude  than  any  that  is  known  to  the 
registry  of  fame.  For  him  history  has  no  peers,  and  futurity 
no  oblivion.  If  mind  and  its  development  in  action  is  the  test 
of  greatness,  then  was  Napoleon  surpassingly  great.  He  was 
the  instrument  of  good,  and  Europe  may  long  bless  his  advent ; 
yet  Azrael  himself  is  not  a  more  fell  destroyer  than  was  Bona- 
parte. He  was  the  minister  of  misery,  and  the  great  high  priest 
of  suffering. 


Emotions  on  returning  to  the  United  States. 

Legak6, 

Sir,  I  dare  not  trust  myself  to  speak  of  my  country  with  the 
rapture  which  I  habitually  feel  when  I  contemplate  her  marvel- 
ous history.  But  this  I  will  say,  that,  on  my  return  to  it,  after 
an  absence  of  only  four  years,  I  was  filled  with  wonder  at  all  1 
saw  and  all  I  heard.  What  is  to  be  compared  with  it?  I  found 
\ew  York  grown  up  to  almost  double  its  former  size,  with  the 
air  of  a  great  capital  instead  of  a  mere  flourishing  commercial 
town,  as  I  had  known  it.  I  listened  to  accounts  of  voyages  of  a 
thousand  miles,  in  magnificent  steamboats,  on  the  waters  of  those 
great  lakes,  which,  bill  the  other  day,  I  left  sleeping  in  the  prime- 
val silence  of  nature,  in  the  recesses  of  a  vast  wilderness;  and 
I  felt  tlnt  there  are  a  grandeur  and  a  majesty  in   this  irrcsiiltb'e 


j  32  ROSS'S   SPEAKER. 

onward  march  of  a  race  —  created,  as  I  believe,  and  elected,  to 
possess  and  people  a  continent  —  which  belong  to  few  other  ob- 
jects, either  of  the  moral  or  material  world. 

We  may  become  so  much  accustomed  to  such  things,  that  they 
shall  make  as  little  impression  upon  our  minds  as  the  glories  of 
the  heavens  above  us  ;  but,  looking  on  them  lately  a?  with  the  eye 
of  the  stranger,  I  felt,  what  a  recent  English  traveler  is  said  to 
have  remarked,  that,  far  from  being  without  poetry,  as  some 
have  vainly  alleged,  our  whole  country  is  one  great  poem.  Sir, 
it  is  so ;  and  if  there  be  a  man  that  can  think  of  what  is  doing, 
.n  all  parts  of  this  most  blessed  of  all  lands,  to  embellish  and 
advance  it  —  who  can  contemplate  that  living  mass  of  intelli- 
gence, activity,  and  improvement,  as  it  rolls  on  in  its  sure  and 
steady  progress  to  the  uttermost  extremities  of  the  west  — who 
can  see  scenes  of  savage  desolation  transformed,  almost  with  the 
suddenness  of  enchantment,  into  those  of  fruitfulness  and  beauty, 
crowned  with  flourishing  cities  filled  with  the  noblest  of  all  pop- 
ulations —  if  there  be  a  man,  I  say,  that  can  witness  all  this 
passing  under  his  very  eyes,  without  feeling  his  heart  beat  high 
and  his  imagination  warmed  and  transported  by  it,  be  sure,  sir, 
that  the  raptures  of  song  exist  not  for  him ;  he  would  listen  in 
vain  to  Tasso  or  Camoens,  telling  a  tale  of  the  wars  of  knights 
and  crusaders,  or  of  the  discovery  and  conquest  of  another 
hemisphere. 


William  Tell  on  Switzerland.  —  J.  s.  Knowleb. 

Once  Switzerland  was  free.     With  what  a  pride 
I  used  to  walk  these  hills,  look  up  to  heaven, 
And  bless  God  that  it  was  so !     It  was  free 
From  end  to  end  ;  from  cliff  to  lake  'twas  free. 
Free  as  our  torrents  are,  that  leap  our  rocks 
And  plow  our  valleys  without  asking  leave  ; 
Or  as  our  peaks,  that  wear  their  caps  of  snow 
In  very  presence  of  the  regal  sun. 
How  happy  was  I  in  it  then  !     I  loved 
Its  very  storms.     Ay,  often  have  I  sat 
In  my  boat  at  night,  when,  midway  o'er  the  lake, 
The  stars  went  out,  and  down  the  mountain  gorge 
The  wind  came  roaring — I  have  sat  and  eyed 
The  thunder  breaking  from  his  cloud,  and  smiled 
To  see  him  shake  his  lightnings  o'er  my  head, 
And  think  I  had  no  master  save  his  own. 


IN    FAVOR  OF   PROSECUTING   THE  WAR.  133 

You  know  the  jutting  cliff,  round  which  a  track 
Up  hither  winds,  whose  base  is  but  the  brow 
To  such  another  one,  with  scanty  room 
For  two  abreast  to  pass  ?     O'ertaken  there 
By  the  mountain  blast,  I've  laid  me  flat  along, 
And  while  gust  followed  gust  more  furiously, 
As  if  to  sweep  me  o'er  the  horrid  brink, 
And  I  have  thought  of  other  lands,  whose  storms 
Are  summer  flaws  to  those  of  mine,  and  just 
Have  wished  me  there  —  the  thought  that  mine  was  free 
Has  checked  that  wish ;  and  I  have  raised  my  head, 
And  cried  in  thralldom  to  that  furious  wind, 
"  Blow  on  !     This  is  the  land  of  liberty." 


In  Favor  of  prosecuting  the  War. 

Henry  Clay 

When  the  administration  was  striving,  by  the  operation  ol 
peaceful  measures,  to  bring  Great  Britain  back  to  a  sense  of 
justice,  the  gentlemen  of  the  opposition  were  for  old-fashioned 
war.  And,  now  they  have  got  old-fashioned  war,  their  sensibili- 
ties are  cruelly  shocked,  and  all  their  sympathies  lavished  upon 
the  harmless  inhabitants  of  the  adjoining  provinces.  What  does 
a  state  of  war  present?  The  united  energies  of  one  people 
arrayed  against  the  combined  energies  of  another ;  a  conflict  in 
which  each  party  aims  to  inflict  all  the  injury  it  can,  by  sea  and 
land,  upon  the  territories,  property,  and  citizens  of  the  other, 
subject  only  to  the  rules  of  mitigated  war  practiced  by  civilized 
nations.  The  gentlemen  would  not  touch  the  continental  prov- 
inces  of  the  enemy,  nor,  I  presume,  for  the  same  reason,  her 
issions  in  the  West  Indies.  The  same  humane  spirit  would 
spare  the  seamen  and  soldiers  of  the  enemy.  The  sacred  per- 
son of  liis  majesty  must  not  be  attacked,  for  the  learned  gentle- 
iii' -n  on  the  other  side  are  quite  familiar  with  the  maxim  that  the 
king  can  do  no  wrmi^.  Indeed,  sir,  I  know  of  no  person  on 
whom  we  may  make  war,  upon  the  principles  of  the  honorable 
gentlemen.  hut  Mr.  Stephen,  the  celebrated  author  of  the  orders 
in  council,  or  the  board  of  admiralty,  who  authorize  and  regulate 
the  practice  of  impressment 

The  di  of  the  war  admonish  us,  we  are  told,  of  the  ne- 

cessity of  terminating  the  contest  )f  our  achievements  by  land 
have  been  less  splendid  than  those  of  our  intrepid  seamen  by 


134  ROSS'S  SPEAKER. 

water,  it  is  not  because  the  American  soldier  is  less  brave.  On 
tne  one  element,  organization,  discipline,  and  a  thorough  knowl- 
edge of  their  duties  exist  on  the  part  of  the  officers  and  their 
men.  On  the  other,  almost  every  thing  is  yet  to  be  acquired. 
We  have,  however,  the  consolation  that  our  country  abounds 
with  the  richest  materials,  and  that  in  no  instance,  when  engaged 
in  action,  have  our  arms  been  tarnished. 

An  honorable  peace  is  attainable  only  by  an  efficient  war. 
My  plan  would  be,  to  call  out  the  ample  resources  of  the  coun- 
try, give  them  a  judicious  direction,  prosecute  the  war  with  the 
utmost  vigor,  strike  wherever  we  can  reach  the  enemy,  at  sea  or 
on  land,  and  negotiate  the  terms  of  a  peace  at  Quebec  or  at 
Halifax.  We  are  told  that  England  is  a  proud  and  lofty  nation, 
which,  disdaining  to  wait  for  danger,  meets  it  half  way.  Haugh- 
ty as  she  is,  we  once  triumphed  over  her ;  and,  if  we  do  not 
listen  to  the  counsels  of  timidity  and  despair,  we  shall  again 
prevail.  In  such  a  cause,  with  the  aid  of  Providence,  we  must 
come  out  crowned  with  success ;  but,  if  we  fail,  let  us  fail  like 
men — lash  ourselves  to  our  gallant  tars,  and  expire  together  in 
one  common  struggle,  righting  for  free  trade  and  seamen's 
rights. 


The   American  Flag.  —  New  Orleans  Cbescwt. 

Fling  out  the  nation's  stripes  and  stars, 

The  glorious  standard  of  the  free, 
The  banner  borne  through  freedom's  wars, 

The  hallowed  gem  of  liberty. 
On  mountain  top,  in  valley  deep, 

Wherever  dwell  the  free  and  brave, 
O'er  graves  where  freedom's  martyrs  sleep, 

Columbia's  flag  must  freely  wave. 

Raise  high  the  bright,  auspicious  flag, 

From  every  hight  and  lowly  glen, 
In  forest  dell,  on  jutting  crag, 

Afar  among  the  hearts  of  men. 
The  sparkling  banner,  widely  flung 

Shall  proudly  wave  o'er  land  and  sea; 
And  freedom's  anthem,  sweetly  sung, 

Shall  swell  our  country's  jubilee. 

O,  let  the  world  that  flag  behold, 
The  emblem  of  the  brave  and  free 


DEFENCE   OF   JEFFERSON.  135 

Tne  brightest  crown  of  streaming  gold 

That  decks  the  goddess  Liberty. 
Spread  out  its  folds,  till  heaven's  dome 

Reverberates  the  holy  sound, 
That  all  oppressed  have  found  a  home 

On  freedom's  consecrated  ground. 

Fling  out  our  country's  banner  wide, 

Our  emblematic  starry  gem  ; 
Our  Union  never  shall  divide, 

While  floats  that  silken  diadem. 
Year  after  year  the  brilliant  stars 

Shall  indicate  the  strength  of  all ; 
Let  all  beware  of  civil  wars, 

That  curse  of  monarchs,  freedom's  fall. 


Defence  of  Jefferson.  —  Henry  Clay, 

Next  to  the  notice  which  the  opposition  has  found  itself  called 
upon  to  bestow  upon  the  French  emperor,  a  distinguished  citizen 
of  Virginia,  formerly  President  of  the  United  States,  has  never 
for  a  moment  failed  to  receive  their  kindest  and  most  respectful 
attention.  An  honorable  gentleman  from  Massachusetts,  of  whom 
1  am  sorry  to  say  it  becomes  necessary  for  me,  in  the  course  of 
my  remarks,  to  take  some  notice,  has  alluded  to  him  in  a  remark- 
able manner.  Neither  his  retirement  from  public  office,  his 
eminent  services,  nor  his  advanced  age,  can  exempt  this  patriot 
from  the  coarse  assaults  of  party  malevolence.  No,  sir.  In 
1801  he  snatched  from  the  rude  hand  of  usurpation  the  violated 
constitution  of  his  country,  and  that  is  his  crime.  He  preserved 
thai  instrument,  in  form,  and  substance,  and  spirit,  a  precious 
inheritance  for  generations  to  come;  and  for  this  he  can  never 
be  forgiven.  How  vain  and  impotent  is  party  rage,  directed 
against  such  a  man  !  He  is  not  more  elevated  by  his  lofty  resi- 
dence  upon  the  summit  of  his  own  favorite  mountain,  than  he  is 
lifted,  by  the  serenity  of  his  mind  and  the  consciousness  of  a 
well-spent  life  above  the  malignant  passions  and  hitter  feelings 
if  the  day.  No:  his  own  beloved  Monticello  is  not  less  moved 
\\c  storms  thai  IumI  against  its  sides,  than  is  tins  illustrious 
man  by  the  bowlings  of  the  whole  British  pack  lit  loose  from 
'he  Essex  kennel.  When  the  gentleman  to  whom  I  have  been 
compelled   to  allude  shall    \\i  re  mingled  his  dust  with  that  of  his 


,36  KOSS'S   SPEAKEK. 

abused  ancestors  —  when  he  shall  have  been  consigned  to  obliv- 
ion, or,  if  he  lives  at  all,  shall  live  only  in  the  treasonable  annals 
of  a  certain  junto  —  the  name  of  Jefferson  will  be  hailed  with 
gratitude,  his  memory  honored  and  cherished  as  the  second 
founder  of  the  liberties  of  the  people,  and  the  period  of  his  ad- 
ministration will  be  looked  back  to  as  one  of  the  happiest  and 
brightest  epochs  of  American  history. 


The  Noblest  Public  Virtue.  —  henry  Clay, 

There  is  a  sort  of  courage,  which,  I  frankly  confess  it,  I  do 
not  possess  ;  a  boldness  to  which  I  dare  not  aspire  ;  a  valor  which 
I  can  not  covet.  I  can  not  lay  myself  down  in  the  way  of  the 
welfare  and  happiness  of  my  country.  That  I  can  not,  I  have 
not  the  courage  to  do.  I  can  not  interpose  the  power  with  which 
[  may  be  invested  —  a  power  conferred,  not  for  my  personal 
benefit,  nor  for  my  aggrandizement,  but  for  my  country's  good 
—  to  check  her  onward  march  to  greatness  and  glory.  I  have 
not  courage  enough.  I  am  too  cowardly  for  that.  I  would  not, 
I  dare  not,  in  the  exercise  of  such  a  threat,  lie  down  and  place 
my  body  across  the  path  that  leads  my  country  to  prosperity  and 
happiness.  This  is  a  sort  of  courage  widely  different  from  that 
which  a  man  may  display  in  his  private  conduct  and  personal  re- 
lations. Personal  or  private  courage  is  totally  distinct  from  that 
higher  and  nobler  courage  which  prompts  the  patriot  to  offer  him- 
self a  voluntary  sacrifice  to  his  country's  good. 

Apprehensions  of  the  imputation  of  the  want  of  firmness  some- 
times impel  us  to  perform  rash  and  inconsiderate  acts.  It  is  the 
greatest  courage  to  be  able  to  bear  the  imputation  of  the  want 
of  courage.  But  pride,  vanity,  egotism,  so  unamiable  and  of- 
fensive in  private  life,  are  vices  which  partake  of  the  character 
of  crimes  in  the  conduct  of  public  affairs.  The  unfortunate 
victim  of  these  passions  can  not  see  beyond  the  little,  petty,  con- 
temptible circle  of  his  own  personal  interests.  All  his  thoughts 
are  withdrawn  from  his  country,  and  concentrated  on  his  consist- 
ency, his  firmness,  himself.  The  high,  the  exalted,  the  sublime 
emotions  of  a  patriotism  which,  soaring  towards  heaven,  rises 
far  above  all  mean,  low,  or  selfish  things,  and  is  absorbed  by  one 
soul-transporting  thought  of  the  good  and  the  glory  of  one's 
country,  are  never  felt  in  his  impenetrable  bosom.  That  patri- 
otism which,  catching  its  inspirations  from  the  immortal  God, 
and  leaving  at  an  immeasurable  distance  below  all  lesser,  grov- 


ON  THE   INDEPENDENCE   OF   GliEECE.  13? 

eiing,  personal  interests  and  feelings,  animates  and  prompts  to 
deeds  of  self-sacrifice,  of  valor,  of  devotion,  and  of  death  itself 
—  that  is  public  virtue ;  that  is  the  noblest,  the  sublimest  of  ah 
public  virtues. 


On  Recognizing  the  Independence  of  Greece. 

Hensy  Clay, 

Are  we  so  low,  so  base,  so  despicable,  that  we  may  not  ex- 
press our  horror,  articulate  our  detestation,  of  the  most  brutal 
and  ferocious  war  that  ever  stained  earth  or  shocked  high  Heav- 
en with  the  atrocious  deeds  of  a  brutal  soldiery,  set  on  by  the 
clergy  and  followers  of  a  fanatical  and  mimical  religion,  rioting 
in  excess  of  blood  and  butchery,  at  the  mere  details  of  whicl 
the  heart  sickens  ?  If  the  great  mass  of  Christendom  can  look 
coolly  and  calmly  on  while  all  this  is  perpetrated  on  a  Christian 
people  in  their  own  vicinity,  in  their  very  presence,  let  us,  at 
least,  show  that  in  this  distant  extremity  there  is  still  some  sensi- 
bility and  sympathy  for  Christian  wrongs  and  sufferings  —  that 
there  are  still  feelings  which  can  kindle  into  indignation  at  the 
oppression  of  a  people  endeared  to  us  by  every  ancient  recollec- 
tion and  every  modern  tie.  But,  sir,  it  is  not  first  and  chiefly 
fur  Greece  that  I  wish  to  see  this  measure  adopted.  It  will  give 
them  but  little  aid  —  that  aid  purely  of  a  moral  kind.  It  is, 
indeed,  soothing  and  solacing  in  distress  to  hear  the  accents 
of  a  friendly  voice.  We  know  this  as  a  people.  But,  sir,  it  is 
principally  and  mainly  for  America  herself,  for  the  credit  and 
character  of  our  common  country,  that  I  hope  to  see  this  reso- 
lution pass ;  it  is  for  our  own  unsullied  name  that  I  feel. 

What  appearance,  sir,  on  the  page  of  history  would  a  record 
like  this  make !  —  "In  the  month  of  January,  in  the  year  of  our 
Lord  and  Saviour  1824,  while  all  European  Christendom  beheld 
with  cold,  unfeeling  apathy  the  unexampled  wrongs  and  inex- 
pressible misery  of  Christian  Greece,  a  proposition  was  made  in 
the  Congress  of  the  United  States  —  almost  the  sole,  the  last,  the 
greatest  repository  of  human  hope  and  of  human  freedom  ;  the 
representatives  of  a  nation  capable  of  bringing  into  the  field  a 
million  of  bayonets  —  while  the  freemen  of  that  nation  were 
spontaneously  expressing  its  deep-toned  feeling,  its  fervent  prayer 
for  Grecian  success;  while  the  whole  continent  was  rising,  by 
one  simultaneous  motion,  solemnly  and  anxiously  supplicating 
und  invoking  the  aid  of  Heaven  to  spare  Greece  and  to  invig- 
Drave  her  arms;  while  temples  and  senate  houses  were  all  re- 


138  BOSS'S   SPEAKER. 

rioundiag  with  one  burst  of  generous  sympathy ;  in  the  year  of 
our  Lord  and  Saviour  —  that  Saviour  alike  of  Christian  Greece 
and  of  us  —  a  proposition  was  offered  in  the  American  Congress 
to  send  a  messenger  to  Greece  to  inquire  into  her  state  and 
condition,  with  an  expression  of  our  good  wishes  and  our  sym- 
pathies, and  it  was  rejected  ! "  Go  home,  if  you  dare  —  go 
home,  if  you  can  —  to  your  constituents,  and  tell  them  that  you 
voted  it  down.  Meet,  if  you  dare,  the  appalling  countenances 
of  those  who  sent  you  here,  and  tell  them  that  you  shrank  from 
the  declaration  of  your  own  sentiments ;  that  you  can  not  tell 
how,  but  that  some  unknown  dread,  some  indescribable  appre- 
hension, some  indefinable  danger,  affrighted  you ;  that  the  spec- 
ters of  cimeters,  and  crowns,  and  crescents  gleamed  before  you 
and  alarmed  you ;  and  that  you  suppressed  all  the  noble  feelings 
prompted  by  religion,  by  liberty,  by  national  independence,  and 
by  humanity.  I  can  not  bring  myself  to  believe  that  such  will 
be  the  feeling  of  a  majority  of  this  house. 


The  Advice  of  Polonius  to  his  Son.  —  Shaksmlum. 

Give  thy  thoughts  no  tongue, 
Nor  any  unproportioned  thought  his  act. 
Be  thou  familiar,  but  by  no  means  vulgar. 
The  friends  thou  hast,  and  their  adoption  tried, 
Grapple  them  to  thy  soul  with  hooks  of  steel ; 
But  do  not  dull  thy  palm  with  entertainment 
Of  ev'ry  new-hatched,  unfledged  comrade.    Beware 
Of  entrance  into  quarrel ;  but,  being  in, 
Bear  it  that  the  opposer  may  beware  of  thee. 
Give  every  man  thine  ear,  but  few  thy  voice  : 
Take  each  man's  censure,  but  reserve  thy  judgment- 
Costly  thy  habit  as  thy  purse  can  buy, 
But  not  expressed  in  fancy  ;  rich,  not  gaudy ; 
For  the  apparel  oft  proclaims  the  man. 
Neither  a  borrower  nor  a  lender  be ; 
For  loan  oft  loses  both  itself  and  friend, 
And  borrowing  dulls  the  edge  of  husbandry. 
This,  above  all  —  to  thine  own  self  be  true, 
And  it  must  follow,  as  the  night  the  day, 
Thou  canst  not  then  be  false  to  any  man. 


PERPETUAL  VIGILANCE  THE  PRICE  OF  LIBERTY.  139 


Pervetual  Vigilance  the  Price  of  Liberty. 

John  C.  Calhodn, 

We  make  a  great  mistake  in  supposing  all  people  capable  of 
self-government.  Acting  under  that  impression,  many  are  anx 
ious  to  force  free  governments  on  all  the  people  of  this  conti- 
nent, and  over  the  world,  if  they  had  the  power.  It  has  been 
lately  urged,  in  a  very  respectable  quarter,  that  it  is  the  mission 
of  this  country  to  spread  civil  and  religious  liberty  over  all  the 
globe,  and  especially  over  this  continent,  even  by  force,  if  neces- 
sary. It  is  a  sad  delusion.  None  but  a  people  advanced  to  a 
high  state  of  moral  and  intellectual  excellence  are  capable,  in  a 
civilized  condition,  of  forming  and  maintaining  free  govern- 
ments ;  and,  among  those  who  are  so  far  advanced,  very  few 
indeed  have  had  the  good  fortune  to  form  constitutions  capable 
of  endurance.  It  is  a  remarkable  fact  in  the  political  history  of 
man,  that  there  is  scarcely  an  instance  of  a  free  constitutional 
government  which  has  been  the  work  exclusively  of  foresight 
and  wisdom.  They  have  all  been  the  result  of  a  fortunate  com- 
bination of  circumstances.  It  is  a  very  difficult  task  to  make  a 
constitution  worthy  of  being  called  so.  This  admirable  federal 
constitution  of  ours  is  the  result  of  such  a  combination.  It  is 
superior  to  the  wisdom  of  any  or  of  all  the  men  by  whose  agen- 
cy it  was  made.  The  force  of  circumstances,  and  not  foresight 
or  wisdom,  induced  them  to  adopt  many  of  its  wisest  provisions. 

But  of  the  few  nations  who  have  been  so  fortunate  as  to  adopt 
a  wise  constitution,  still  fewer  have  had  the  wisdom  long  to  pre- 
serve one.  It  is  harder  to  preserve  than  to  obtain  liberty.  After 
years  of  prosperity,  the  tenure  by  which  it  is  held  is  but  too 
often  forgotten ;  and  I  fear,  senators,  that  such  is  the  case  with 
us.  There  is  no  solicitude  now  for  liberty.  Who  talks  of  liber 
ty  when  any  great  question  comes  up  ?  Here  is  a  question  of 
the  first  magnitude  as  to  the  conduct  of  this  war ;  do  you  heai 
any  body  talk  about  its  effects  upon  our  liberties  and  our  free 
institutions  ?  No,  sir.  That  was  not  the  case  formerly.  In  the 
early  stages  of  our  government,  the  great  anxiety  was,  how  to 
preserve  liberty.  The  great  anxiety  now  is  for  the  attainment 
of  mere  military  glory.  In  the  one  we  are  forgetting  the  other. 
The  maxim  of  former  times  was,  that  power  is  always  stealing 
from  the  many  to  the  few ;  the  price  of  liberty  was  perpetual 
vigilance.  They  were  constantly  looking  out  and  watching  for 
danger.  Not  so  now.  Is  it  because  there  has  been  any  decay 
of  liberty  among  tin;  people  ?      Nol  at  all.     I  believe  the  love  of 


140  KOSS'S   SPEAKER. 

liberty  was  never  more  ardent;  but  they  have  forgotten  the  ten- 
ure of  liberty,  by  which  alone  it  is  preserved. 

We  think  we  may  now  indulge  in  every  thing  with  impunity, 
as  if  we  held  our  charter  by  "  right  divine" — from  Heaven  it- 
self. Under  these  impressions  we  plunge  into  war,  we  contract 
heavy  debts,  we  increase  the  patronage  of  the  executive,  and  we 
talk  of  a  crusade  to  force  our  institutions  of  liberty  upon  all 
people.  There  is  no  species  of  extravagance  which  our  people 
imagine  will  endanger  their  liberty  in  any  degree.  Sir,  the  hour 
is  approaching,  the  day  of  retribution  will  come.  It  will  come 
as  certainly  as  I  am  now  addressing  the  Senate ;  and,  when  it 
does  come,  awful  will  be  the  reckoning,  heavy  the  responsibility 
somewhere. 


On  the  Prospect  of  War.  —  John  c.  Calhoto, 

We  are  told  of  the  danger  of  war.  We  are  ready  to  ac- 
knowledge its  hazard  and  misfortune,  but  I  cannot  think  that  we 
have  any  extraordinary  danger  to  apprehend  —  at  least,  none  to 
warrant  an  acquiescence  in  the  mjuries  we  have  received.  On 
the  contrary,  I  believe  no  war  would  be  less  dangerous  to  inter- 
nal peace  or  the  safety  of  the  country. 

In  speaking  of  Canada,  the  gentleman  from  Virginia  intro- 
duced the  name  of  Montgomery  with  much  feeling  and  interest. 
Sir,  there  is  danger  in  that  name  to  the  gentleman's  argument. 
It  is  sacred  to  heroism.  It  is  indignant  of  submission.  It  calls 
our  memory  back  to  the  time  of  our  revolution,  to  the  Congress 
of  1774  and  1775.  Suppose  a  speaker  of  that  day  had  risen 
and  urged  all  the  arguments  which  we  have  heard  on  this  occa- 
sion ;  had  told  that  Congress,  "  Your  contest  is  about  the  right 
of  laying  a  tax ;  the  attempt  on  Canada  has  nothing  to  do  with 
it ;  the  war  will  be  expensive  ;  danger  and  devastation  will  over- 
spread our  country,  and  the  power  of  Great  Britain  is  irresisti- 
ble." With  what  sentiment,  think  you,  would  such  doctrines 
have  been  received?  Happy  for  us, .they  had  no  force  at  that 
period  of  our  country's  glory.  Had  such  been  acted  on,  this 
hall  would  never  have  witnessed  a  great  people  convened  to  de- 
liberate for  the  general  good ;  a  mighty  empire,  with  prouder 
prospects  than  any  nation  the  sun  ever  shone  on,  would  not  have 
risen  in  the  west.  No  ;  we  would  have  been  vile,  subjected 
colonies,  governed  by  that  imperious  rod  which  Britain  holds 
over  her  distant  provinces. 

The  gentleman  is  at  a  loss  to  account  for  what  he  calls  our 


AGAINST  THE   FORCE   BILL.  14 

hatred  to  England.  He  asks,  "  How  can  we  hate  the  country  of 
Locke,  of  Newton,  Hampden,  and  Chatham  —  a  country  having 
the  same  language  and  customs  with  ourselves,  and  descended 
from  a  common  ancestry  ?  "  Sir,  the  laws  of  human  affections 
are  steady  and  uniform.  If  we  have  so  much  to  attach  us  to 
that  country,  powerful,  indeed,  must  be  the  cause  which  has 
overpowered  it.  Yes,  sir,  there  is  a  cause  strong  enough.  Not 
that  occult,  courtly  affection  which  he  has  supposed  to  be  enter- 
tained for  France,  but  continued  and  unprovoked  insult  and 
injury ;  a  cause  so  manifest,  that  the  gentleman  had  to  exert 
much  ingenuity  to  overlook  it.  But,  in  his  eager  admiration  of 
that  country,  he  has  not  been  sufficiently  guarded  in  his  argu- 
ment. Has  he  reflected  on  the  cause  of  that  admiration  ?  Has 
he  examined  the  reasons  of  our  high  regard  for  her  Chatham  ? 
It  is  his  ardent  patriotism  ;  his  heroic  courage,  which  could  not 
brook  the  least  insult  or  injury  offered  to  his  country,  but  thought 
that  her  interest  and  honor  ought  to  be  vindicated,  be  the  hazard 
and  expense  what  they  might.  I  hope  when  we  are  called  on  to 
admire,  we  shall  also  be  asked  to  imitate. 


Against   the   Force  Bill.  —  John  C.  Calhoun, 

It  is  said  that  the  bill  ought  to  pass,  because  the  law  must  be 
enforced.  The  law  must  be  enforced !  The  imperial  edict 
must  be  executed  !  It  is  under  such  sophistry,  couched  in  gen- 
eral terms,  without  looking  to  the  limitations  which  must  ever 
exist  in  the  practical  exercise  of  power,  that  the  most  cruel  and 
despotic  acts  ever  have  been  covered.  It  was  such  sophistry  as 
this  that  cast  Daniel  into  the  lions'  den,  and  the  three  innocents 
into  the  fiery  furnace.  Under  the  same  sophistry  the  bloody 
edicts  of  Nero  and  Caligula  were  executed.  The  law  must  be 
enforced  !  Yes,  the  act  imposing  the  tea  tax  "  must  be  exe- 
cuted." This  was  the  very  argument  which  impelled  Lord  North 
and  his  administration  in  that  mad  career  which  forever  sepa- 
rated us  from  the  British  crown.  Under  a  similar  sophistry, 
"  that  religion  must  be  protected,"  how  many  massacres  have 
been  perpetrated,  and  how  many  martyrs  have  been  tied  to  the 
stake  !  What !  acting  on  this  vague  abstraction,  are  you  pre- 
pared  to  enforce  a  law,  without  considering  whether  it  be  just  or 
unjust,  constitutional  or  unconstitutional  ?  Will  you  collect  mon- 
ey  when  it  is  acknowledged  thai  it  is  not  wanted?  He  who 
earns  the  money,  who  digs  it  from  the  earth  with  the  sweat  of 

(i 


14fc  ROSS'S   SPEAKER. 

his  brow,  has  a  just  title  to  it  against  the  universe.  No  one  has 
a  right  to  touch  it  without  his  consent,  except  his  government,  and 
that,  only  to  the  extent  of  its  legitimate  wants.  To  take  more  is 
robbery;  and  you  propose  by  this  bill  to  enforce  robbery  by 
murder.  Yes,  to  this  result  you  must  come,  by  this  miserable 
sophistry,  this  vague  abstraction  of  enforcing  the  law,  without  a 
regard  to  the  fact  whether  the  law  be  just  or  unjust,  constitu- 
tional or  unconstitutional. 

In  the  same  spirit  we  are  told  that  the  Union  must  be  pre- 
served, without  regard  to  the  means.  And  how  is  it  proposed  to 
preserve  the  Union  ?  By  force.  Does  any  man  in  his  senses 
believe  that  this  beautiful  structure,  this  harmonious  aggregate 
of  states,  produced  by  the  joint  consent  of  all,  can  be  preserved 
by  force  ?  Its  very  introduction  would  be  the  certain  destruction 
of  this  Federal  Union.  No,  no !  You  can  not  keep  the  states 
united  in  their  constitutional  and  federal  bonds  by  force.  Has 
reason  fled  from  our  borders  ?  Have  we  ceased  to  reflect  ?  It 
is  madness  to  suppose  that  the  Union  can  be  preserved  by  force. 
I  tell  you  plainly  that  the  bill,  should  it  pass,  can  not  be  enforced. 
It  will  prove  only  a  blot  upon  your  statute  book,  a  reproach  to 
the  year,  and  a  disgrace  to  the  American  Senate.  I  repeat  that 
it  will  not  be  executed ;  it  will  rouse  the  dormant  spirit  of  the 
people,  and  open  their  eyes  to  the  approach  of  despotism.  The 
country  has  sunk  into  avarice  and  political  corruption,  from 
which  nothing  can  arouse  it  but  some  measure,  on  the  part  of  the 
government,  of  folly  and  madness,  such  as  that  now  under  con 
sideration. 


Time.  —  g.  d.  Prbntiob. 

Remorseless  Time ! 
Fierce  spirit  of  the  glass  and  scythe !     What  power 
Can  stay  him  in  his  silent  course,  or  melt 
His  iron  heart  to  pity  ?     On,  still  on 
He  presses,  and  forever.     The  proud  bird, 
The  condor  of  the  Andes,  that  can  soar 
Through  heaven's  unfathomable  depths,  or  brave 
The  fury  of  the  northern  hurricane, 
And  bathe  his  plumage  in  the  thunder's  home, 
Furls  his  broad  wings  at  nightfall,  and  sinks  down 
To  rest  upon  his  mountain  crag.     But  Time 
Knows  not  the  weight  of  sleep  or  weariness, 
And  night's  deep  darkness  has  no  chain  to  bind 


THE   PURSE  AND   THE   SWORD.  143 

His  rushing  pinions.     Revolutions  sweep 
O'er  earth  like  troubled  visions  o'er  the  breast 
Of  dreaming  sorrow ;  cities  rise  and  sink 
Like  bubbles  on  the  water ;  fiery  isles 
Spring  blazing  from  the  ocean,  and  go  back 
To  their  mysterious  caverns  ;  mountains  rear 
To  heaven  their  bald  and  blackened  cliffs,  and  bow 
Their  tall  heads  to  the  plain ;  new  empires  rise, 
Gathering  the  strength  of  hoary  centuries, 
And  rush  down  like  the  Alpine  avalanche, 
Startling  the  nations ;  and  the  very  stars, 
Yon  bright  and  burning  blazonry  of  God. 
Glitter  a  while  in  their  eternal  depths, 
And,  like  the  Pleiad,  loveliest  of  their  train, 
Shoot  from  their  glorious  spheres,  and  pass  away 
To  darkle  in  the  trackless  void.     Yet  Time, 
Time  the  tomb  builder,  holds  his  fierce  career, 
Dark,  stern,  all-pitiless,  and  pauses  not, 
Amid  the  mighty  wrecks  that  strew  his  path, 
To  sit  and  muse,  like  other  conquerors, 
Upon  the  fearful  ruin  he  has  wrought 


The   Pwrse  and  the  Sword.  —  John  C.  Calhoun, 

There  was  a  time,  in  the  better  days  of  the  republic,  when  to 
show  what  ought  to  be  done  was  to  insure  the  adoption  of  the 
measure.  Those  days  have  passed  away,  I  fear,  forever.  A 
power  has  risen  up  in  the  government  greater  than  the  people 
themselves,  consisting  of  nfcmy,  and  various,  and  powerful  inter- 
ests, combined  into  one  mass,  and  held  together  by  the  cohesive 
power  of  the  vast  surplus  in  the  banks.  This  mighty  combina- 
tion will  be  opposed  to  any  change ;  and  it  is  to  be  feared  that, 
such  is  its  influence,  no  measure  to  which  it  is  opposed  can 
become  a  law,  however  expedient  and  necessary ;  and  that  the 
public  monev  will  remain  in  their  possession,  to  be  disposed  of, 
not  as  the  public  interest,  but  as  theirs,  may  dictate.  The  time, 
indeed,  seems  fast  approaching  when  no  law  can  pass,  nor 
any  honor  can  be  conferred,  from  the  chief  magistrate  to  the 
tide  waiter,  without  the  assent  of  this  powerful  and  interested 
combination,  which  is  steadily  becoming  the  government  itself 
to  ihe  u"er  subversion  of  the  authority  of  the  people.  Nay,  I 
fear  we  are  in  the  midst  of  it;  and  I  look  with  anxiety  to  the 
fate  of  this  measure,  as  the  test  whether  we  are  or  not. 


144  ROSS'S   SPEAKER. 

If  nothing  should  be  done  —  if  the  money  which  justly  belongs 
to  the  people  be  left  where  it  is,  with  the  many  and  overwhelm- 
ing objections  to  it  —  the  fact  will  prove  that  a  great  and  radical 
change  has  been  effected;  that  the  government  is  subverted; 
that  the  authority  of  the  people  is  suppressed  by  a  union  of  the 
banks  and  the  executive  —  a  union  a  hundred  times  more  dan- 
gerous than  that  of  church  and  state,  against  which  the  constitu- 
tion has  so  jealously  guarded.  It  would  be  the  announcement 
of  a  state  of  things  from  which,  it  is  to  be  feared,  there  can  be 
no  recovery  —  a  state  of  boundless  corruption  and  the  lowest 
and  basest  subserviency.  It  seems  to  be  the  order  of  Providence 
that,  with  the  exception  of  these,  a  people  may  recover  from  any 
other  evil.  Piracy,  robbery,  and  violence  of*  every  description 
may,  as  history  proves,  be  succeeded  by  virtue,  patriotism,  and 
national  greatness ;  but  where  is  the  example  to  be  found  of  a 
degenerate,  corrupt,  and  subservient  people,  who  have  ever  re- 
covered their  virtue  and  patriotism  ?  Their  doom  has  ever  been 
the  lowest  state  of  wretchedness  and  misery ;  scorned,  trodden 
down,  and  obliterated  forever  from  the  list  of  nations.  May 
Heaven  grant  that  such  may  never  be  our  doom. 


Liberty  the  Meed  of  Intelligence. 

John  C.  Calhoun, 

Society  can  no  more  exist  without  government,  in  one  form 
or  another,  than  man  without  society.  It  is  the  political,  then, 
which  includes  the  social,  that  is  his  natural  state.  It  is  the  one 
for  which  his  Creator  formed  him,  into  which  he  is  impelled 
irresistibly,  and  in  which  only  his  race  can  exist,  and  all  his  facul- 
ties be  fully  developed.  Such  being  the  case,  it  follows  that  any, 
the  worst  form  of  government  is  better  than  anarchy,  and  that 
individual  liberty  or  freedom  must  be  subordinate  to  whatever 
power  may  be  necessary  to  protect  society  against  anarchy  with- 
in or  destruction  from  without ;  for  the  safety  and  well  being  of 
society  are  as  paramount  to  individual  liberty  as  the  safety  and 
well  being  of  the  race  are  to  that  of  individuals  ;  and,  in  the  same 
proportion,  the  power  necessary  for  the  safety  of  society  is  par- 
amount to  individual  liberty.  On  the  contrary,  government  has 
no  right  to  control  individual  liberty  beyond  what  is  necessary  to 
the  safety  and  well  being  of  society.  Such  is  the  boundary 
which  separates  the  power  of  government  and  the  liberty  of 
the  citizen  or  subject  in   the   political   state,  which    as   I  hp.vo 


MUSIC.  14b 

shown,  is  the  natural  state  of  man,  the  only  one  in  which   his 
race  can  exist,  and  the  one  in  which  he  is  born,  lives,  and  dies. 

It  follows  from  all  this  that  the  quantum  of  power  on  the  part 
of  the  government,  and  of  liberty  on  that  of  individuals,  instead 
of  being  equal  in  all  cases,  must  necessarily  be  very  unequal 
among  different  people,  according  to  their  different  conditions. 
For  just  in  proportion  as  a  people  are  ignorant,  stupid,  debased, 
corrupt,  exposed  to  violence  within  and  danger  without,  the  power 
necessary  for  government  to  possess,  in  order  to  preserve  societ" 
against  anarchy  and  destruction,  becomes  greater  and  greatei 
and  individual  liberty  less  and  less,  until  the  lowest  condition  is 
reached,  when  absolute  and  despotic  power  becomes  necessary 
on  the  part  of  the  government,  and  individual  liberty  extinct. 
So,  on  the  contrary,  just  as  a  people  rise  in  the  scale  of  intelli- 
gence, virtue,  and  patriotism,  and  the  more  perfectly  they  become 
acquainted  with  the  nature  of  government,  the  ends  for  which  it 
was  ordered,  and  how  it  ought  to  be  administered,  and  the  less 
the  tendency  to  violence  and  disorder  within  and  danger  from 
abroad,  the  power  necessary  for  government  becomes  less  and 
.  and  individual  liberty  greater  and  greater.  Instead,  then, 
of  all  men  having  the  same  right  to  liberty  and  equality,  as  is 
claimed  by  those  who  hold  that  they  are  all  born  free  and  equal, 
liberty  is  the  noblest  and  highest  reward  bestowed  on  mental  and 
moral  development,  combined  with  favorable  circumstances. 
Instead,  then,  of  liberty  and  equality  being  born  with  man, — 
instead  of  all  men,  and  all  classes  and  descriptions,  being  equally 
entitled  to  them,  —  they  are  high  prizes  to  be  won;  and  are,  in 
their  most  perfect  state,  not  only  the  highest  reward  that  can  be 
bestowed  on  our  race,  but  the  most  difficult  to  be  won,  and,  when 
won,  the  most  difficult  to  be  preserved. 


Music.  —  Shakspeabe. 

Therefore  the  poet 
Did  feign  that  Orpheus  drew  trees,  stones,  and  floods; 
Since  naught  so  stockish,  hard,  and  full  of  rage, 
B  11  music  for  the  time  doth  change  its  nature. 
The  man  thai  hath  no  music  in  himself, 
Nor  is  nol  moved  with  concord  of  sweet  sounds, 
Is  lit  for  treasons,  stratagems,  and  spoils; 
The  motions  of  his  spirit  arc  dull  as  night. 
And  his  affections  dark  as  Erebus: 
Lei  no  Buch  man  be  trtiBted 
10 


146  ROSS'S   SPEAKER 


Lines.  —  Wordsworth 

My  heart  leaps  up  when  I  behold 

A  rainbow  in  the  sky : 
So  was  it  when  my  life  began  ; 
So  is  it  now  I  am  a  man ; 
So  be  it  when  I  shall  grow  old, 

Or  let  me  die. 
The  child  is  father  of  the  man ; 
And  I  could  wish  my  days  to  be 
Bound  each  to  each  by  natural  piety. 


Genius. 

What  is  genius  ?     'Tis  a  flame 
Kindling  all  the  human  frame ; 
'Tis  a  ray  that  lights  the  eye, 
Soft  in  love,  in  battle  high ; 
'Tis  the  lightning  of  the  mind, 
Unsubdued  and  undefined ; 
'Tis  the  flood  that  pours  along 
The  full,  clear  melody  of  song ; 
'Tis  the  sacred  boon  of  Heaven, 
To  its  choicest  favorites  given. 
They  who  feel  can  paint  it  well. 
What  is  genius  ?     Byron,  tell ! 


Portraiture  of  S.  S.  Prentiss.  —  J.  G.  Bam>win, 

There  was  no  element  of  oratory  that  Prentiss's  genius  did 
not  supply.  It  was  plain  to  see  whence  his  boyhood  had  drawn 
its  romantic  inspiration.  His  imagination  was  colored  and  im- 
bued with  the  light  of  the  shadowy  past,  and  was  richly  stored 
with  the  unreal  but  life-like  creations  which  the  genius  of  Shaks- 
peare  and  Scott  had  evoked  from  the  ideal  world.  He  had  lin- 
gered spell-bound  among  the  scenes  of  medieval  chivalry.  His 
spirit  had  dwelt,  until  almost  naturalized,  in  the  mystic  dream- 
,and  they  peopled  —  among  paladins,  and  crusaders,  and  knight? 
templars. 


PORTRAITURE   OF   S.    S.   PRENTISS.  14* 

He  could  speak  the  thoughts  of  poetry  with  the  inspiration  of 
oratory  and  the  tones  of  music.  The  fluency  of  his  speech  was 
unbroken  —  no  syllable  unpronounced  —  not  a  ripple  on  the 
smooth  and  brilliant  tide.  Probably  he  never  hesitated  for  a 
word  in  his  life.  His  diction  adapted  itself  without  effort  to  the 
thought ;  now  easy  and  familiar,  now  stately  and  dignified,  now 
beautiful  and  various  as  the  hues  of  the  rainbow  ;  again  compact, 
even  rugged  in  sinewy  strength,  and  lofty  and  grand  in  eloquent 
declamation. 

His  face  and  manner  were  alike  uncommon.  The  turn  of 
his  head  was  like  Byron's ;  the  face  and  the  action  were  just 
what  the  mind  made  them.  The  excitement  of  the  features,  the 
motions  of  the  head  and  body,  the  gesticulation  he  used,  were 
all  in  absolute  harmony  with  the  words  you  heard.  You  saw 
and  took  cognizance  of  the  general  effect  only ;  the  particular 
instrumentalities  did  not  strike  you ;  they  certainly  did  not  call 
off  attention  to  themselves.  How  a  countenance  so  redolent  of 
good  humor  as  his  at  times  could  so  soon  be  overcast,  and  ex- 
press such  intense  bitterness,  seemed  a  marvel.  But  bitterness 
and  the  angry  passions  were  probably  as  strongly  implanted  in 
him  as  any  other  sentiments  or  qualities. 

There  was  much  about  him  to  remind  you  of  Byron  :  the  cast 
of  head,  the  classic  features,  the  fiery  and  restive  nature,  the 
moral  and  personal  daring,  the  imaginative  and  poetical  temper- 
ament, the  scorn  and  deep  passion,  the  deformity  of  which  1 
have  spoken,  the  satiric  wit,  the  craving  for  excitement  and  the 
air  of  melancholy  he  sometimes  wore,  his  early  neglect  and  the 
imagined  slights  put  upon  him  in  his  unfriended  youth,  the  col- 
lisions, mental  and  physical,  which  he  had  with  others,  his  bril- 
liant and  sudden  reputation,  and  the  romantic  interest  which 
invested  him,  make  up  a  list  of  correspondences  still  farther 
increased,  alas !  by  his  untimely  death. 

He  is  gone.  He  died,  and  lies  buried  near  that  noble  river 
which  first,  when  a  raw  Yankee  boy,  caught  his  poetic  eye,  and 
stirred  by  its  aspect  of  grandeur  his  sublime  imagination ;  upon 
whose  shores  first  fell  his  burning  and  impassioned  words,  as 
they  aroused  the  rapturous  applause  of  his  astonished  auditors. 
And  long  will  that  noble  river  flow  out  its  tide  into  the  gulf,  ere 
the  roar  of  its  current  shall  mingle  with  ihe  tones  of  such  elo- 
quence again  —  eloquence  •'-  full  and  majestic,  as  resistless  and 
sublime,  and  as  wild  in  iis  sweep  as  its  own  sea-like  flocd. 

r  iver 
R*.ll«  minglii  Kifl  fame  fv.rever." 


148  ROSS'S   SPEAKER. 

Mississippi  Contested  Election.  —  s.  s.  Pebniim, 


Sir,  if  you  consummate  this  usurpation,  you  degrade  the  State 
of  Mississippi ;  and  if  she  submits,  never  again  can  she  wear  the 
lofty  look  of  conscious  independence.  Burning  shame  will  set 
its  seal  upon  her  brow ;  and  when  her  proud  sons  travel  in  other 
lands,  they  will  blush  at  the  history  of  her  dishonor,  as  it  falls 
from  the  sneering  lip  of  the  stranger.  Sir,  place  her  not  in  that 
terrible  and  trying  position,  in  which  her  love  for  this  glorious 
Union  will  be  found  at  v/ar  with  her  own  honor  and  the  para- 
mount obligation  which  binds  her  to  transmit  to  the  next  genera- 
tion, untarnished  and  undiminished,  her  portion  of  that  rich 
legacy  of  the  revolution,  which  was  bought  with  blood,  and 
which  should  never  be  parted  with  for  a  price  less  than  what  it 
cost.  Is  there  a  state  in  this  Union  that  would  part  with  it  — 
that  would  submit  to  have  her  representatives  chosen  by  this 
house,  and  forced  upon  her  against  her  will  ? 

Come,  what  says  the  Bay  State,  time-honored  Massachusetts  7 
From  the  cradle  in  which  young  Liberty  was  first  rocked,  even 
from  old  Faneuil  Hall,  comes  forth  her  ready  answer  ;  and  before 
it  dies  away,  again  it  is  repeated  from  Bunker  Hill  —  "  It  was  for 
this  very  right  of  representation  our  fathers  fought  the  battles 
of  the  revolution,  and  ere  we  will  surrender  this  dear-bought 
right,  those  battles  shall  again  become  dread  realities."  Would 
Kentucky  submit  ?  Ask  her,  Mr.  Speaker,  and  her  Mammoth 
Cavern  will  find  a  voice  to  thunder  in  your  ear  her  stern  re- 
sponse—  "  No  ;  sooner  than  submit  to  such  an  outrage,  our  soil 
shall  be  rebaptized  with  a  new  claim  to  the  proud  but  melan- 
choly title  of  the  dark  and  bloody  ground.'1'1  And  what  says 
Virginia,  with  her  high  device  —  her  "  sic  semper  tyrannis" 
.he  loftiest  motto  that  ever  blazed  upon  a  warrior's  shield  or  a 
nation's  arms  ?  How  would  she  brook  such  usurpation  ?  What 
says  the  mother  of  states  and  state-right  doctrines  —  she  who 
has  placed  instruction  as  a  guardian  over  representation  ?  What 
says  she  to  the  proposition  that  this  house  can  make  representa- 
tives and  force  them  upon  a  state  ii  violation  of  its  choice  and 
will  ?  And  where  is  South  Carolina,  the  Hurry  Percy  of  the 
Union  ?  On  which  side,  in  this  great  controversy,  does  she 
couch  tier  lance  and  draw  her  blade  ?  I  trusl  upon  the  side  of 
her  sister  state  ;  upon  the  side,  too,  of  the  constitutional  righta 
of  all  the  states  ;  and  let  her  lend  the  full  strength  of  her  good 
right  arm  to  the  blow,  when  she  strikes  in  so  righteous  a  quarreJ 


LAFAYETTE'S  VISIT  TO    AMERICA.  149 

Upon  all  the  states  I  do  most  solemnly  call  for  that  justice  -o  an- 
other which  they  would  expect  for  themselves  Let  this  cup 
pass  from  Mississippi.  Compel  her  not  to  drink  its  bitter  ingre- 
dients, lest,  some  day,  "  even-handed  justice  shou  d  commend  the 
poisoned  chalice  to  your  own  lips."  Rescind  that  resolution, 
which  presses  like  a  foul  incubus  upon  the  constitution.  You  sit 
here,  twenty-five  sovereign  states,  in  judgment  upon  the  most  sa- 
cred right  of  a  sister  state.  Should  you  decide  against  her,  you 
tear  from  her  brow  the  richest  jewel  which  sparkles  there,  and 
forever  bow  her  head  in  shame  and  dishonor.  But  if  your  de- 
termination is  taken  —  if  the  blow  must  fall  —  if  the  violated 
constitution  must  bleed  —  I  have  but  one  request  on  her  behalf 
to  make.  When  you  decide  that  she  can  not  choose  her  own 
representation,  at  that  self  same  moment  blot  from  the  spangled 
banner  of  this  Union  the  bright  star  that  glitters  to  the  name  of 
Mississippi,  but  leave  the  stripe  behind,  a  fit  emblem  of  hei 
degradation. 


Lafayette's  Visit  to  America.  —  s.  s.  Prentisb. 

In  1824,  on  Sunday,  a  single  ship  furled  her  snowy  sails  in 
the  harbor  of  New  York.  Scarcely  had  her  prow  touched  the 
shore,  when  a  murmur  was  heard  among  the  multitude,  which 
gradually  deepened  into  a  mighty  shout,  and  that  shout  was  a 
shout  of  joy.  Again  and  again  were  the  heavens  rent  with  the 
inspiring  sound.  Nor  did  it  cease  ;  for  the  loud  strain  was  car- 
ried from  city  to  city,  and  from  state  to  state,  till  not  a  tongue 
was  silent  throughout  this  wide  republic,  from  the  lisping  infant 
to  the  tremulous  old  man.  All  were  united  in  one  wild  shout  of 
gratulation.  The  voices  of  more  than  ten  millions  of  freemen 
gushed  up  towards  the  sky,  and  broke  the  stillness  of  its  silent 
rlepths.  But  one  note  and  but  one  tone  went  to  form  this  accla- 
mation. Up  in  those  pure  regions  clearly  and  sweetly  did  it 
sound  — "  Honor  to  Lafayette  !  Welcome  to  the  nation's  guest !  " 
It  was  Lafayette,  the  war-worn  veteran,  whose  arrival  upon  our 
shores  had  caused  this  wide-spread,  this  universal  joy.  He  came 
among  us  to  behold  the  independence  and  the  freedom  which  his 
young  arm  had  so  well  assisted  in  achieving;  and  never  before 
rliil  eve  behold,  or  heart  of  man  conceixe,  such  homage  paid  to 
virtue. 

His  whole  stay  amongst  us  was  a  continued  triumph.  Every 
day's  march  was  an  ovation.  The  United  States  became  for 
months  one  great  festive  hall.      People  forgot  the   usual  occupa 

G  * 


150  ROSS'S   SPEAKER. 

nous  of  lfe,  and  crowded  to  behold  the  benefactor  of  mankind 
The  iron-hearted,  gray-haired  veterans  of  the  revolution  thronged 
around  him,  to  touch  his  hand,  to  behold  his  face,  and  to  call 
down  Heaven's  benison  upon  their  old  companion  in  arms.  Lisp- 
ing infancy  and  garrulous  age,  beauty,  talents,  wealth,  and  power, 
all  for  a  while  forsook  their  usual  pursuits,  and  united  to  pay  a 
willing  tribute  of  gratitude  and  welcome  to  the  nation's  guest. 
The  name  of  Lafayette  was  upon  every  lip,  and  wherever  was 
his  name,  there  too  was  an  invocation  for  blessings  on  his  head. 
What  were  the  triumphs  of  the  classic  ages,  compared  with  this 
unbought  love  and  homage  of  a  mighty  people  ?  Take  them  in 
Rome's  best  days,  when  the  invincible  generals  of  the  Eternal 
City  returned  from  their  foreign  conquests  with  captive  kings 
bound  to  their  chariot  wheels,  and  the  spoils  of  nations  in  their 
train — followed  by  their  stern  and  bearded  warriors,  and  sur- 
rounded by  the  interminable  multitudes  of  the  seven-hilled  city 
shouting  a  fierce  welcome  home  —  what  was  such  a  triumph, 
compared  with  that  of  Lafayette  ? 

Not  a  single  city,  but  a  whole  nation  rising  as  one  man,  and 
greeting  him  with  an  affectionate  embrace.  One  single  day  of 
such  spontaneous  homage  were  worth  whole  years  of  courtly 
adulation ;  one  hour  might  well  reward  a  man  for  a  whole  life 
of  danger  and  of  toil.  Then,  too,  the  joy  with  which  he  must 
have  viewed  the  prosperity  of  the  people  for  whom  he  had  so 
heroically  struggled  —  to  behold  the  nation  which  he  had  left 
a  little  child  now  grown  up  in  the  full  proportions  of  lusty 
manhood  —  to  see  the  tender  sapling,  which  he  had  left  with 
hardly  shade  enough  to  cover  its  own  roots,  now  waxing  into 
the  sturdy  and  unwedgeable  oak,  beneath  whose  grateful  um- 
brage the  oppressed  of  all  nations  find  shelter  and  protection. 
That  oak  still  grows  on  in  its  majestic  strength,  and  wider  and 
wider  still  extend  its  mighty  branches.  But  the  hand  that  wa- 
tered and  nourished  it  while  yet  a  tender  plant  is  now  cold ;  the 
heart  that  watched  with  strong  affection  its  early  growth  has 
ceased  to  beat. 


Death  of  Lafayette.  —  s.  s.  Pbentiss. 

Death,  who  knocks  with  equal  hand  at  the  door  of  the  cottage 
and  the  palace  gate,  has  been  busy  at  his  appointed  work. 
Mourning  prevails  throughout  the  land,  and  the  countenances  of 
all  are  shrouded  in  the  mantle  of  regret.  Far  across  the  wild 
Atlantic,  amid  the  pleasant  vineyards  in   the   sunny   land   of 


DEATH   OF   LAFAYETTE.  151 

France,  there  too  is  mourning,  and  the  weeds  of  sorrow  are 
alike  worn  by  prince  and  peasant.  And  against  whom  has  the 
monarch  of  the  tomb  turned  his  remorseless  dart,  that  such  wide- 
spread sorrow  should  prevail  ?  Hark !  and  the  agonized  voice 
of  Freedom,  weeping  for  her  favorite  son,  will  tell  you,  in  strains 
sadder  than  those  with  which  she  shrieked  at  Kosciusko's  fall, 
that  Lafayette,  the  gallant  and  the  good,  has  ceased  to  live. 

The  friend  and  companion  of  Washington  is  no  more.  He 
who  taught  the  eagle  of  our  country,  while  yet  unfledged,  to 
plume  his  young  wing  and  mate  his  talons  with  the  lion's  strength, 
has  taken  his  flight  far  beyond  the  stars,  beneath  whose  influence 
he  fought  so  well.  Lafayette  is  dead.  The  gallant  ship,  whose 
pennon  has  so  often  bravely  streamed  above  the  roar  of  battle 
and  the  tempest's  rage,  has  at  length  gone  slowly  down  in  the 
still  and  quiet  waters.  Well  mightst  thou,  O  Death,  now  recline 
beneath  the  laurels  thou  hast  won,  and  for  a  while  forego  thy  re- 
lentless task  ;  for  never,  since,  as  the  grim  messenger  of  almighty 
vengeance,  thou  earnest  into  this  world,  did  a  more  generous 
heart  cease  to  heave  beneath  thy  chilling  touch,  and  never  will 
thy  insatiable  dart  be  hurled  against  a  nobler  breast.  Who  does 
not  feel,  at  the  mournful  intelligence,  as  if  he  had  lost  something 
cheering  from  his  own  path  through  life  ?  as  if  some  bright  star, 
at  which  he  had  been  accustomed  frequently  and  fondly  to  gaze, 
had  been  suddenly  extinguished  in  the  firmament  ? 

The  page  of  history  abounds  with  those  who  have  struggled 
forth  from  the  nameless  crowd,  and,  standing  forward  in  the 
front  ranks,  challenged  the  notice  of  their  fellow-men.  But 
when,  in  obedience  to  their  bold  demands,  we  examine  their 
claims  to  our  admiration,  how  seldom  do  we  find  aught  that  ex- 
cites our  respect  or  commands  our  veneration  !  With  what 
pleasure  do  we  turn  from  the  contemplation  of  the  Caesars  and 
Napoleons  of  the  human  race  to  meditate  upon  the  character 
of  Lafayette !  We  feel  proud  that  we  belong  to  the  same  spe- 
cies, we  feel  proud  that  we  live  in  the  same  age,  and  we  feel 
still  more  proud  that  our  own  country  drew  forth  and  nurtured 
those  generous  virtues  which  went  to  form  a  character  that,  for 
love  of  liberty,  romantic  chivalry,  unbounded  generosity,  and 
unwavering  integrity,  has  never  had  a  parallel. 


The  Same,  concluded. 

ViP'UE   forms    no   shield  to  ward  off  the   arrows  of  death. 
Could  it  have  availed,  even  when  joined  with  the  prayers  of  a 


15U,  ROSS'S   SPEAKER. 

whole  civilized  world,  then,  indeed,  this  mournful  occasion  would 
never  have  occurred,  and  the  life  of  Lafayette  would  have  been 
as  eternal  as  his  fame.  Yet,  though  he  has  passed  from  among 
us  —  though  that  countenance  will  no  more  be  seen  that  used  to 
lighten  up  the  van  of  freedom's  battles  as  he  led  her  eaglets  tc 
their  feast  —  still  has  he  left  behind  his  better  part,  the  legacy  of 
his  bright  example,  the  memory  of  his  deeds.  The  lisping  in- 
fant will  learn  to  speak  his  venerated  name.  The  youth  of  every 
country  will  be  taught  to  look  upon  his  career  and  follow  in  his 
footsteps.  When,  hereafter,  a  gallant  people  are  fighting  for 
freedom  against  the  oppressor,  and  their  cause  begins  to  wane 
before  the  mercenary  bands  of  tyranny,  then  will  the  name  of 
Lafayette  become  a  watchword  that  will  strike  with  terror  on  the 
tyrant's  ear,  and  nerve  with  redoubled  vigor  the  freeman's  arm. 
At  that  name  many  a  heart  before  unmoved  will  wake  in  the 
glorious  cause ;  many  a  sword,  rusting  ingloriously  in  its  scab- 
bard, will  leap  forth  to  battle.  And,  even  amid  the  mourning 
with  which  our  souls  are  shrouded,  is  there  not  some  room  for 
gratulation  3 

Our  departed  friend  and  benefactor  has  gone  down  to  the 
grave,  peacefully  and  quietly,  at  a  good  old  age.  He  had  per- 
formed his  appointed  work.  His  virtues  were  ripe.  He  had 
done  nothing  to  sully  his  fair  fame.  No  blot  or  soil  of  envy  or 
calumny  can  now  affect  him.  His  character  will  stand  upon  the 
pages  of  history  pure  and  unsullied  as  the  lilied  emblem  on  his 
country's  banner.  He  has  departed  from  among  us,  but  he  has 
become  again  the  companion  of  Washington.  He  has  but  left 
the  friends  of  his  old  age  to  associate  with  the  friends  of  his 
youth.  Peace  be  to  his  ashes.  Calm  and  quiet  may  they  rest 
upon  some  vine-clad  hill  of  his  own  beloved  land  ;  and  it  shall 
be  called  the  Mount  Vernon  of  France.  And  let  no  cunning 
sculpture,  no  monumental  marble,  deface  with  its  mock  dignity 
the  patriot's  grave ;  but  rather  let  the  unpruned  vine,  the  wild 
flower,  and  the  free  song  of  the  uncaged  bird  —  all  that  speaks 
of  freedom  and  of  peace  —  be  gathered  round  it.  Lafayette 
needs  no  mausoleum.  His  fame  is  mingled  with  a  nation's  his- 
tory.    His  epitaph  is  engraved  upon  the  hearts  of  men. 


Toasting.  —  S.  S   Prentiss. 

Perhaps  the  most  remarkable  property  of  toasting  is  its  won 
derful  facility  in  making  great,  men.     It  was  the  ane'ent  opinion 


OKANIOLOGY.  153 

—  though  one  which  has  long  been  exploded  —  that,  to  be  great, 
a  man  must  have  performed  some  great,  virtuous,  or  noble  ac- 
tion—  must  have  shown,  either  mentally  or  physically,  some  supe- 
riority over  his  fellow-beings.  Now,  thank  Heaven,  nothing  of 
this  sort  is  required  ;  for  the  whole  secret  of  greatness  is  com- 
prised in  the  single  word  notoriety;  and  the  most  approvea 
method  of  becoming  notorious  is  by  toasting.  Does  a  man 
wish  to  become  notorious,  —  that  is,  great,  —  he  gets  a  friend  to 
propose  his  health  at  some  public  dinner,  with  an  enumeration 
of  all  the  good  qualities  he  does  not  possess.  The  people,  filled 
almost  to  bursting  with  the  fat  things  prepared  for  them,  over- 
flowing with  charity  and  good  liquor,  drink  the  health  with  great 
applause  ;  which  is  elicited,  however,  in  most  cases,  not  by  the 
person,  but  by  the  flavor  of  the  wine. 

Fired  by  such  manifest  signs  of  popular  favor,  the  candidate 
for  greatness  rises,  and  assures  them,  very  truly,  that  they  are 
pleased  to  honor  him  more  than  he  deserves ;  that  modesty 
would  induce  him  to  be  silent,  but  his  heart  (he  had  better  say  his 
stomach)  is  too  full  for  restraint ;  that  no  sacrifices  would  be 
too  great  for  their  kindness  towards  him  ;  that  he  would  go 
even  to  Congress,  for  the  love  he  bears  his  country  ;  he  assures 
them  that  the  United  States  is  the  greatest  nation  on  the  globe,  — 
his  own  state  the  first  in  the  Union  —  the  county  in  which  they 
are  eating  the  best  in  the  state  —  at  the  same  time  modesth 
insinuating  that  he  is  himself  the  greatest  man  in  the  county  — 
and,  finally,  winds  up  by  proposing  himself  a  candidate  for  the 
next  election.  The  people  are  astonished  to  find  they  have  had 
so  great  a  man  amongst  them  without  ever  dreaming  of  it ;  and 
they  send  him  to  Congress  forthwith.  Thus  sure  and  easy  is 
the  toasting  path  to  greatness. 


Craniology.  —  8.  s.  Pkbntiss. 

Thk  god  Momus  found  fault  with  Jupiter  for  not  placing  a 
window  in  the  heart  of  man;  which  would  have  enabled  one, 
merely  by  looking  in  at  it,  to  have  ascertained  a  person's  charac- 
ter as  well  at  fi'-'  sight  as  after  a  dozen  years' acquaintance. 
Mankind  have  sanctioned  the  criticism  of  the  heathen  deity;  as 
's  manifested  by  the  greal  pains  they  are  continually  taking  for 
finding  out  the  real  Bentiments  of  their  fellow-beings.  It  is  to 
their  anxiety  on  tin-  subjeel  thai  we  owe  the  various  theories 
which  have,  from  time  to  time,   >■  i  n  broached  for  discovering  a 


154  KOSS'S   SPEAKEli. 

man's  character  by  outward  signs  or  appearances.  Thus  Lava- 
ter  considered  the  features,  and  the  various  and  complex  lines 
upon  the  countenance,  as  the  true  handwriting  of  Nature,  which 
she  hath  affixed  as  a  label  upon  the  face  —  precisely  as  an 
apothecary  marks  upon  a  vial  the  nature  of  its  contents. 

Within  a  few  years,  craniology  has  been  made  to  answer  the 
purpose  oi  the  window  of  Momus ;  and  the  human  head,  like 
^he  United  States,  is  divided  off  into  a  number  of  independent 
bumps,  which  have,  however,  a  reciprocal  influence  upon  each 
other.  The  character  of  eacn  of  these  bumps  is  as  well  ascer- 
tained as  that  of  the  people  of  any  of  the  aforesaid  states,  and 
the  character  of  the  individual  is  made  up  by  a  compound  of 
them  all  —  each  bump  being  taxed  for  this  purpose  just  in  pro- 
portion to  its  bigness.  Now,  although  it  is  a  digression,  I  can  not 
help  observing,  what  a  wonderful  argument  this  system  affords 
in  favor  of  a  republican  form  of  government,  showing  that  Na- 
ture herself  has  chosen  it  as  the  best,  in  her  arrangement  of  the 
human  mind. 

Take  an  example  :  suppose  that,  like  honest  Jack  Falstaff,  my 
bump  of  discretion  exceeds  my  bump  of  valor,  and  that  some 
one  insults  me ;  the  community  of  Courage,  residing  in  the 
bump  of  Valor,  is  immediately  enraged,  and  rises  in  arms  to 
punish  the  aggressor :  but,  "  Stop,"  cry  the  cautious,  though 
more  numerous  citizens  of  the  commonwealth  of  Discretion, 
"  most  haughty  Valor  •  we  don't  choose  to  be  dragged  into  this 
contest ;  if  you  wish  to  fight,  you  must  fight  it  out  alone  :  for 
ourselves,  we  have  advised  with  counsel,  and  intend  taking  the 
law  of  the  fellow."  At  this  remonstrance,  the  community  of 
Courage  lay  down  their  arms,  like  good  citizens,  obedient  to  the 
will  of  the  majority. 

But  to  return.  Though  1  have  great  belief  in  physiognomy, 
and  though  I  doubt  not  that  the  rapid  development  of  intellect 
may  force  out  corresponding  protuberances  of  the  cranium,  just 
as  we  see  mountains  arise  on  the  face  of  the  globe  by  the  opera- 
tion of  internal  fire,  yet  both  these  theories  are  so  liable  to 
error,  the  exceptions  to  the  general  rule  are  so  numerous,  that  I 
have  been  led  to  try  some  other  method  of  getting  out  a  man's 
true  character. 


Virginia  Patriotism.  —  J.  G.  Baxdwih. 


'6 


The  disposition  to  be  proud  and  vain  of  one's  country,  and  to 
boast  of  it,  is  a  natural  feeling,  indulged  or  not,  in  respecJ  to  thn 


VIRGINIA   PATRIOTISM.  155 

pride,  vanity,  and  boasting,  according  to  the  character  of  the 
native  :  but  with  a  Virginian,  it  is  a  passion.  It  inheres  in  him 
even  as  the  flavor  of  a  York  River  oyster  in  that  bivalve,  and  no 
distance  of  deportation,  and  no  trimmings  of  a  gracious  pros- 
perity, and  no  pickling  in  the  sharp  acids  of  adversity,  can  de- 
stroy it.  It  is  a  part  of  the  Virginia  character,  —  just  as  tho 
flavor  is  a  distinctive  part  of  the  oyster,  —  "  which  can  not,  save 
by  annihilating,  die."  It  is  no  use  talking  about  it  —  the  thing 
may  be  right,  or  wrong  :  like  FalstafT's  victims  at  Gadshill,  it 
.s  past  praying  for  :  it  is  a  sort  of  cocoa  grass  that  has  got  into 
the  soil,  and  has  so  matted  over  it,  and  so  fiber ed  through  it,  as  to 
have  become  a  part  of  it ;  at  least,  there  is  no  telling  which  is 
the  grass  and  which  is  the  soil ;  and  certainly  it  is  useless  labor 
to  try  to  root  it  out.  You  may  destroy  the  soil,  but  you  can't 
root  out  the  grass. 

Patriotism  with  a  Virginian  is  a  noun  personal.  It  is  the 
Virginian  himself  and  something  over.  He  loves  Virginia  per 
se  and  propter  se  :  he  loves  her  for  herself  and  for  himself — 
because  she  is  Virginia  and  —  every  thing  else  beside.  He  loves 
to  talk  about  her  :  "  Out  of  the  abundance  of  the  heart  the  mouth 
speaketh."  It  makes  no  odds  where  he  goes,  he  carries  Vir- 
ginia with  him ;  not  in  the  entirety  always,  —  but  the  little  spot 
he  came  from  is  Virginia,  —  as  Swedenborg  says,  "  The  smallest 
part  of  the  brain  is  an  abridgment  of  all  of  it."  "  Caelum,  non 
animum,  mutant,  qui  trans  mare  cur runt , " '*  was  made  for  a  Vir- 
ginian. He  never  gets  acclimated  elsewhere  ;  he  never  loses 
citizenship  to  the  old  home.  The  right  of  expatriation  is  a  pure 
i\bstraction  to  him.  He  may  breathe  in  Alabama,  but  he  lives  in 
Virginia.  His  treasure  is  there,  and  his  heart  also.  If  he  looks  at 
the  Delta  of  the  Mississippi,  it  reminds  him  of  James  River  "  low 
grounds  ; "  if  he  sees  the  vast  prairies  of  Texas,  it  is  a  memorial  of 
the  meadows  of  "  the  Valley."  Richmond  is  the  centre  of  attrac- 
tion, the  depot  of  all  that  is  grand,  great,  good,  and  glorious. 


The   Same,  concluded. 

There  is  nothing  presumptuous  y  froward  in  this  Virginianism. 
The  Virginian  does  not  make  broad  his  phylacteries,  and  crow 
over  the  pour  Carolinian  and  Tennesseean.  He  does  not  re- 
proach him  with  bis  misfortune  of  birthplace.     No;  he  thinks  the 

•  Tbofw  who  <  ions  the  aea  change  ihi dl  &to,  but  uot  thair  mind.  —  Horace 


J  56  BOSS'S    SPEAKER 

affliction  is  enough  without  the  triumph.  The  franchise  of  hav 
ing  been  born  in  Virginia,  and  the  prerogative  founded  thereon, 
are  too  patent  of  honor  and  distinction  to  be  arrogantly  pre- 
tended. The  bare  mention  is  enough.  He  finds  occasion  to  let 
the  fact  be  known,  and  then  the  fact  is  fully  able  to  protect  and 
take  care  of  useif.  Like  a  ducal  title,  there  is  no  need  of  saying 
more  than  to  name  it :  modesty,  then,  is  a  becoming  and  ex- 
pected virtue ;  forbearance  to  boast  is  true  dignity. 

The  Virginian  is  a  magnanimous  man.  He  never  throws  up 
to  a  Yankee  the  fact  of  his  birthplace.  He  feels  on  the  subject 
as  a  man  of  delicacy  feels  in  alluding  to  a  rope  in  the  presence 
of  a  person,  one  of  whose  brothers  "  stood  upon  nothing  and 
kicked  at  the  United  States  ; "  and  so  far  do  they  carry  this  re- 
finement, that  I  have  known  one  of  my  countrymen,  on  occasion 
of  a  Bostonian  owning  where  he  was  born,  generously  protest 
that  he  had  never  heard  of  it  before ;  as  if  honest  confession 
half  obliterated  the  shame  of  the  fact.  Yet  he  does  not  lack 
the  grace  to  acknowledge  worth  or  merit  in  another,  wherever 
the  native  place  of  that  other ;  for  it  is  a  common  thing  to  hear 
them  say  of  a  neighbor,  "  He  is  a  clever  fellow,  though  he  did 
come  from  New  Jersey,  or  even  from  Connecticut."     *      *      * 

It  is  not,  however,  to  be  denied,  that  Virginia  is  the  land  of 
orators,  heroes,  and  statesmen ;  and  that,  directly  or  indirectly, 
she  has  exerted  an  influence  upon  the  national  councils  nearly  as 
great  as  all  the  rest  of  the  states  combined.  It  is  wonderful  that 
a  state  of  its  size  and  population  should  have  turned  out  such  an 
unprecedented  quantum  of  talent,  and  of  talent  as  various  in 
kind  as  prodigious  in  amount.  She  has  reason  to  be  proud ;  and 
the  other  states,  so  largely  in  her  debt,  ought,  therefore,  tc  allow 
her  the  harmless  privilege  of  a  little  bragging. 


Henry   Clay.— Axon. 

Pride  of  the  West  !  whose  clarion  tone 
Thrilled  grandly  through  her  forest  lone 
And  waked  to  bounding  life  the  shore 
Where  darkness  only  sat  before  ; 
How  millions  bent  before  thy  shrine, 
Beholding  there  a  light  divine  — 
Caught  on  the  golden  chain  of  love, 
Fiom  its  majestic  course  above. 


HENRY   CLAY.  15? 

Star  of  our  Hope  !  when  Battle's  call 
Had  wove  the  soldier's  gory  pall  — 
When,  blazing  o'er  the  troubled  seas, 
Death  came  tumultuous  on  the  breeze, 
And  men  beheld  Columbia's  frame 
Scorched  by  the  lurid  levin  flame  — 
Thou,  thou  didst  pour  the  patriot  strain,* 
And  thrilled  with  it  each  bleeding  vein, 
Until  the  star-lit  banner  streamed 

Like  tempest  fires  around  the  foe, 
Whose  crimson  cross  no  longer  gleamed 
In  triumph  where  it  erst  had  beamed, 

But  sunk  beneath  our  gallant  blow. 

Sun  of  the  Free  !  where  Summer  smiles 
Eternal  o'er  the  clustered  isles  — 
Where  Greece  unsheathed  her  olden  blade 
For  glory  in  the  haunted  shade  — 
Where  Chimborazo,  stands  sublime, 
A  landmark  by  the  sea  of  Timet  — 
Thy  name  shall,  as  a  blessing  given 

For  man,  O !  never  to  depart, 
Peal  from  our  gladdened  earth  to  heaven  — 

The  warm,  wild  music  of  the  heart. 

Pride  of  the  Just  !  what  though  dark  Hate 

Her  frenzied  storm  around  thee  rolls ; 
Has  it  not  ever  been  the  fate 

Of  all  this  earth's  truth-speaking  souls  ? 
Lightnings  may  play  upon  the  rock 

Whose  star-kissed  forehead  wooes  the  gale, 
While  they  escape  the  thunder  shock 

Who  dwell  within  the  lonely  vale  — 
Living  unnoted  !  —  not  so  thou, 
Chief  of  the  fearless  soul  and  brow  ; 
Yet  let  the  lightning  and  the  storm 
Beat  on  thy  long-devoted  form  ; 
The  silvery  daydream  bursts,  and  lo, 
Around  thee  curls  the  promise-bow. 

Look  !  on  yon  heighl  Columbia  stands, 
Immortal  laurels  in  her  hands; 


*  Alluding  to  I  iWir.m  In  i' .iiKri-HR  during  the  Uto 

t   \\,  iceln  advocacy  of  Greta 

American  independence! 


..  war. 
redan  and  Bontk 


i.»>8  ROSS'S   SPEAKER. 

And  hark  her  voice  —  "  Rise  !  Freemen,  rise  ! 

Unloose  the  chain  from  every  breast  ; 
See,  see  the  splendor  in  yon  skies, 

Flashed  from  the  bosom  of  the  west ! n 
Roused  at  the  sound,  lo,  millions  leap 
Like  giants  from  inglorious  sleep. 
What  cries  are  here  ?     What  sounds  prevail  ? 
Whose  name  is  thundering  on  the  gale  ?  — 
(Far  in  the  mountains  of  the  north, 

Far  in  the  sunny  south  away, 
A  winged  luster  bounding  forth) 

The  deathless  name  of  Henry  Clay  ! 


Henry   Clay's  Last   Speech,  made  during  his  Last 
Illness,  in  an  Interview  with  Louis  Kossuth. 

[We  find  the  following  report  of  the  interview  between  these  two  dis- 
tinguished men  in  the  National  Intelligencer.  It  was  written  by  Hon. 
Presley  Ewing,  of  Kentucky,  and  revised  by  Senator  Jones,  of  Tennessee, 
both  of  whom  were  present,  together  with  General  Cass,  and  Mr.  Fendal, 
of  Washington  City  :  — 

M.  Kossuth  was  introduced  by  Mr.  Cass  at  about  three  o'clock,  and,  on 
being  presented  to  Mr.  Clay,  who  rose  to  receive  him,  said,  "  Sir,  I  thank 
you  for  the  honor  of  this  interview." 

"  I  beg  you  to  believe,"  said  Mr.  Clay,  interrupting  him,  "that  it  is  I 
who  am  honored.     Will  you  be  pleased  to  be  seated  ? " 

Alter  the  mutual  interchange  of  civilities,  —  "I  owe  you,  sir,"  said  Mr. 
Clay,  "  an  apology  for  not  having  acceded  before  to  the  desire  you  were 
kind  enough  to  intimate  more  than  once  to  see  me.  But  really  my  health 
has  been  so  feeble  that  I  did  not  dare  to  hazard  the  excitement  of  so  inter- 
esting an  interview.  Besides,  sir,"  he  added,  with  some  pleasantry, 
"  your  wonderful  and  fascinating  elocmence  has  mesmerized  so  large  a 
portion  of  our  people,  wherever  you  have  gone,  and  even  some  of  our 
members  of  Congress,"  waving  his  hand  toward  the  two  or  three  gentle- 
men who  were  present,  "  that  I  feared  to  come  under  its  influence,  lest 
you  might  shake  my  faith  in  some  principles  in  regard  to  the  foreign  policy 
of  this  government,  which  I  have  long  and  constantly  cherished."] 

In  regard  to  the  foreign  policy  of  this  government,  you  will 
allow  me,  I  hope,  to  speak  with  that  sincerity  and  candor  which 
becomes  the  interest  the  subject  has  for  you  and  myself,  and 
which  is  due  to  us  both  as  the  votaries  of  freedom.  I  trust  you  will 
believe  me,  too,  when  I  tell  you  that  I  entertain  ever  the  liveliest 
sympathies  in  every  struggle  for  liberty,  in  Hungary  and  in 
every  countiy.  And  in  this,  I  believe,  I  express  the  universal 
sentiment  of  Tiiy   countrymen.     But,  sir,  for  the   sake  of  ra> 


HENRY   CLAY'S   LAST  SPEECH.  159 

country  you  must  allow  me  to  protest  against  the  policy  you 
propose  to  her.  Waiving  the  grave  and  momentous  question  of 
the  right  of  one  nation  to  assume  the  executive  power  among 
nations  for  the  enforcement  of  international  law,  or  of  the  right 
of  the  United  States  to  dictate  to  Russia  the  character  of  her 
relations  with  the  nations  around  her,  let  us  come  at  once  to  the 
practical  consideration  of  the  matter.  You  tell  us  yourself,  with 
great  truth  and  propriety,  that  mere  sympathy,  or  the  expression 
of  sympathy,  can  not  advance  your  purposes.  You  require  ma- 
terial aid.  And  indeed  it  is  manifest  that  the  mere  declarations 
of  the  sympathy  of  Congress,  or  of  the  president,  or  of  the 
public,  would  be  of  little  avail,  unless  we  were  prepared  to  en- 
force these  declarations  by  a  resort  to  arms,  and  unless  other 
nations  could  see  that  preparation  and  determination  upon  our 
part.  Well,  sir,  suppose  that  war  should  be  the  issue  of  the 
course  you  propose  to  us  ;  could  we  then  effect  any  thing  for  you, 
ourselves,  or  the  cause  of  liberty  ?  To  transport  men  and  arms 
across  the  ocean  in  sufficient  numbers  and  quantities  to  be  effec- 
tive against  Russia  and  Austria  would  be  impossible.  It  is  a  fact 
which  perhaps  may  not  be  generally  known,  that  the  most  im- 
perative reason  with  Great  Britain  for  the  close  of  her  last  war 
with  us,  was  the  immense  cost  of  the  transportation  and  main- 
tenance of  forces  and  munitions  of  war  on  such  a  distant  theater  ; 
and  yet  she  had  not,  perhaps,  more  than  thirty  thousand  men 
upon  this  continent  at  any  time.  Upon  land  Fussia  is  invulner- 
able to  us,  as  we  are  to  her.  Upon  the  ocean,  a  war  between 
Russia  and  this  country  would  result  in  the  mutual  annoyance  to 
commerce,  but  probably  in  little  else.  I  learn  recently  that  her 
war  marine  is  superior  to  that  of  any  nation  in  Europe,  except 
perhaps  Great  Britain.  Her  ports  are  few,  her  commerce  lim- 
ited ;  while  we,  on  our  part,  would  offer  as  a  prey  to  her  cruisers 
a  rich  and  extensive  commerce  Thus,  sir,  after  effecting  noth- 
ing in  such  a  war ;  after  abandoning  our  ancient  policy  of  amity 
and  non-intervention  in  the  affairs  of  other  nations,  and  thus  jus- 
tifying them  in  abandoning  the  terms  of  forbearance  and  non- 
interference which  they  nave  hitherto  preserved  toward  us ; 
after  thr-  downfall,  perhaps,  of  the  friends  of  liberal  institutions 
m  Europe,  —  her  despots,  imitating  and  provoked  by  our  fatal 
example,  may  turn  upon  us  in  the  hour  of  our  weakness  and 
exhaustion,  and,  with  an  almost  equally  irresistible  force  of 
reason  and  of  arms,  they  maj  sa]  to  us,  "You  have  set  us  the 
mple ;  you  have  quit  your  own  to  stand  on  foreign  ground; 
vun  have  abandoned  the  policy  you  professed  in  the  day  of  your 
weakne    ,  to  interfere  in  the  affairs  of  the  people  upon  this  con- 


160  ROSS'S   SPEAKER. 

tinent,  in  behalf  of  those  principles  the  supremacy  of  which,  you 
say,  is  necessary  to  your  prosperity,  to  your  existence.  We,  in 
our  turn,  believing  that  your  anarchical  doctrines  are  destructive 
of,  and  that  monarchical  principles  are  essential  to,  the  peace, 
security,  and  happiness  of  our  subjects,  will  obliterate  the  bed 
which  has  nourished  such  noxious  weeds  ;  we  will  crush  you, 
as  the  propagandists  of  doctrines  so  destructive  of  the  peace  and 
good  order  of  the  world."  The  indomitable  spirit  of  our  people 
might  and  would  be  equal  to  the  emergency,  and  we  might 
remain  unsubdued  even  by  so  tremendous  a  combination  ;  but 
the  consequences  to  us  would  be  terrible  enough.  You  must 
allow  me,  sir,  to  speak  thus  freely,  as  I  feel  deeply,  though  mv 
opinion  may  be  of  but  little  import,  as  the  expression  of  a 
dying  man. 

Sir,  the  recent  melancholy  subversion  of  the  republican  gov- 
ernment of  France,  and  that  enlightened  nation  voluntarily 
placing  its  neck  under  the  yoke  of  despotism,  teach  us  to  despair 
of  any  present  success  for  liberal  institutions  in  Europe  ;  it  gr'es 
us  an  impressive  warning  not  to  rely  upon  others  for  the  vindi- 
cation of  our  principles,  but  to  look  to  ourselves,  and  to  cherish 
with  more  care  than  ever  the  security  of  our  institutions  and  the 
preservation  of  our  policy  and  principles.  By  the  policy  to  which 
we  have  adhered  since  the  days  of  Washington,  ve  have  pros- 
pered beyond  precedent ;  we  have  done  more  for  the  cause  of 
liberty  in  the  world  than  arms  could  effect ;  we  have  shown  to 
other  nations  the  way  to  greatness  and  happiness.  And  if  we 
but  continue  united  as  one  people,  and  persevere  in  the  policy 
which  our  experience  has  so  clearly  and  triumphantly  vindicated, 
we  may  in  another  quarter  of  a  century  furnish  an  example 
which  the  reason  of  the  world  can  not  resist.  But  if  we  should 
involve  ourselves  in  the  tangled  web  of  European  politics,  in  a 
war  in  which  we  could  effect  nothing,  and  if  in  that  struggle 
Hungary  should  go  down,  and  we  snould  go  down  with  her, 
where  then  would  be  the  last  hope  of  the  friends  of  freedom 
throughout  the  world  ?  Tar  better  is  it  for  ourselves,  for  Hun- 
gary, and  for  the  cause  of  liberty,  that,  adhering  to  our  wise 
pacific  system,  and  avoiding  the  distant  wars  of  Euiope,  wc 
should  keep  our  lamp  burning  brightly  on  this  western  shore,  as 
a  light  to  all  nations,  than  to  hazard  its  utter  extinction,  amid  tnf 
ruins  of  fallen  or  falling  republics  in  Europe. 


SPECIMEN    OF   KOSSUTH'S   ELOQUENCE.  161 


Specimen  of  Kossuth's  Eloquence,  No.  1. 

A  home  and  true  friends  are  two  of  the  fairest  gifts  of  Heaven 
allotted  to  man  on  earth.  The  exiled  chief  of  Hungary,  who 
has  now  the  honor  to  acknowledge  your  kindness,  has  no  home 
The  soil  upon  which  my  cradle  stood  —  the  soil  where  I  dreamed 
the  short,  rosy  dreams  of  childhood,  though  even  then  inter 
rupted  by  the  inspirations  of  the  patriot's  heart  —  the  soil  which 
saw  me  struggle  and  strive  for  my  people's  freedom,  and  for  the 
independence  of  my  native  land  —  the  soil  to  which  I  have  de- 
voted my  life,  and  for  which  I  will  readily  die,  —  that  soil  is  a 
valley  of  desolation  now.  The  sanguinary  tools  of  foreign  vio- 
ence  have  polluted  its  sacred  fields,  watered  by  torrents  of  pat- 
riotic martyr  blood.  The  fair  land  is  a  vast  prison,  wherein 
nature  groans,  and,  though  fettered,  with  clinched  fists  looks  up 
to  Heaven  for  the  day  of  retribution  ana  of  deliverance.  The 
storm  of  oppression,  the  clouds  of  tyranny,  hang  gloomily  over 
the  land.  It  has  lost  every  thing,  only  not  it?  honor  —  not  its 
trust  in  God  —  not  its  hope  for  the  future  —  not  the  manly  reso- 
lution once  more  to  rise  in  inexorable  judgment  over  tyrants  and 
oppressors. 

And  O,  how  I  love  thee,  my  poor  native  land  !  How  I  love 
thee  in  thy  gloom  !  How  keenly  thy  sorrows  affect  my  bleeding 
heart !  How  I  long  for  thee,  my  own  dear  native  land,  with  the 
fond  desire  of  an  exile's  heart  !  Home  of  my  people,  which  I 
left,  and  which  God  will  once  more  lead  on  the  path  of  glory 
and  freedom !  home  of  my  recollections  —  of  my  love  !  I  greet 
thee  out  of  the  very  midst  of  thy  generous  friends  of  America, 
who,  benevolent  because  free,  stretch  out  their  gigantic  arms 
over  the  waves  with  consolation  to  thee,  and  shout  out  over  the 
vast  regions  of  this  republic  thy  name  with  millions  of  tongues, 
in  token  that  there  is  yet  a  future  to  this,  because  there  is  an 
America,  free  and  powerful,  watching  the  laws  of  nations,  and 
ready  to  defend  what  despots  dare  to  offend. 

Thus,  though  I  have  no  home,  yet  the  home  of  my  people  has 
good  friends,  who,  with  the  aid  of  God,  I  hope  will  yet  restore 
myself  also  to  my  home,  that  I  may  have  at  least  a  homely 
grave  in  which  to  lay  down  my  weary  head,  that  the  sun  of  free- 
dom may  cast  its  rays  over  the  flower  of  memory  which  the 
kind  remembrance  of  ni\  noople  will  plant  over  the  grave  of  its 
faithful  servant. 


j6"2  KOSS'S  speaker. 


Specimen  No.  2. 

I  passed  the  last  night  in  a  sleepless  dream.  And  my  soul 
wandered,  on  the  magnetic  wings  of  the  past,  home  tc  my  be- 
loved, bleeding  land,  and  I  saw,  in  the  dead  of  the  night,  dark, 
veiled  shapes,  with  the  paleness  of  eternal  grief  upon  their  sad 
brows,  but  terrible  in  the  tearless  silence  of  that  grief,  gliding 
over  the  churchyards  of  Hungary,  and  kneeling  down  at  the 
head  of  the  graves,  and  depositing  the  pious  tributes  of  green 
cypress  upon  them,  and,  after  a  short  prayer,  rising  with 
clinched  fists,  and  gnashing  teeth,  and  then  stealing  away  tear- 
less and  silent  as  they  came  —  stealing  away  because  the  blood- 
hounds of  my  country's  murderers  lurked  from  every  corner  on 
that  night,  and  on  this  day,  and  led  to  prison  those  who  dared  to 
show  a  pious  remembrance  to  the  beloved.  To-day  a  smile  on 
the  lips  of  a  Magyar  is  taken  for  a  crime  of  defiance  to  tyranny, 
and  a  tear  in  his  eye  equivalent  to  a  revolt.  And  yet  I  have 
seen,  with  the  eye  of  my  home-wandering  soul,  thousands  per- 
forming the  work  of  patriotic  virtue. 

And  I  saw  more.  When  the  pious  offerers  have  stolen  away, 
I  saw  the  honored  dead,  half  risen  from  their  tombs,  looking  to 
the  offerings,  and  whispering  gloomily,  "  Still  a  cypress,  and 
still  no  flower  of  joy  !  Is  there  still  the  chill  of  winter  and  the 
gloom  of  night  over  thee,  fatherland  ?  Are  we  not  yet  re- 
venged ?  "  And  the  sky  of  the  east  reddened  suddenly,  and 
boiled  with  bloody  flames,  and  from  the  far,  far  west,  a  lightning 
flashed  like  a  star-spangled  stripe,  and  within  its  light  a  young 
eagle  mounted  and  soared  towards  the  bloody  flames  of  the  east, 
and  as  he  drew  near,  upon  his  approaching,  the  boiling  flames 
changed  into  a  radiant  morning  sun,  and  a  voice  from  above  was 
heard,  in  answer  to  the  question  of  the  dead,  "  Sleep  yet  a  short 
while  —  mine  is  the  revenge  !  I  will  make  the  stars  of  the  west 
the  sun  of  the  east !  and  when  ye  next  awake,  you  will  find  the 
flower  of  joy  upon  your  cold  bed."  And  the  dead  took  the  twi<2 
of  cypress,  the  sign  of  resurrection,  into  their  bony  hands  and 
lay  down. 


Specimen  No.  3. 

Farewell,  my  beloved  country !  Farewell,  land  of  the 
Magyars !  Farewell,  thou  land  of  sorrow  !  I  shall  never  more 
beV'tld   the  summit  of  thy  mountains.      My  last  looks  are  fixed 


MARCO   BOZZARIS.  163 

upon  my  country,  and  I  see  thee  overwhelmed  with  anguish, 
look  into  the  future,  but  that  is  overshadowed. 

Land  of  my  love,  thou  art  in  slavery.  From  thy  very  bosom 
will  be  forged  the  chains  to  bind  all  that  is  sacred.  I  hoped  for 
thee  even  in  the  dark  moment  when  on  thy  brow  was  written  the 
withering  word,  Despair.  I  lifted  my  voice  in  thy  behalf  when 
men  said,  "  Be  thou  a  slave.1' 

My  principles  have  not  been  those  of  Washington,  nor  my 
acts  those  of  Tell.  I  desired  a  free  nation  —  free  as  man  can 
not  be  made  but  by  God.  And  thou  art  fallen  ;  faded  as  the 
lily.  The  united  forces  of  powerful  nations  have  dug  thy  tomb 
the  withering  grasp  of  tyranny  has  seized  upon  thy  vitals,  an<l 
O,  my  country,  the  b  ightinj  curse  of  oppression  is  upon  thee. 


Marco  Bozzaris.  -  Haujo*. 

At  midnight,  in  his  guarded  tent, 

The  Turk  was  dreaming  of  the  hour 
When  Greece,  her  knee  in  suppliance  bent, 

Should  tremble  at  his  power  : 
In  dreams,  through  camp  and  court,  he  bore 
The  trophies  of  a  conqueror  ; 

In  dreams  his  song  of  triumph  heard  ; 
Then  wore  his  monarch's  signet  ring ; 
Then  pressed  that  monarch's  throne,  — a  king  ; 
As  wild  his  thoughts,  and  gay  of  wing, 

As  Eden's  garden  bird 

At  midnight,  in  the  forest  shades, 

Bozzaris  ranged  his  Suliote  band, 
True  as  the  steel  of  their  tried  blades, 

Heroes  in  heart  and  hand. 
There  had  the  Persian's  thousands  stood, 
There  had  the  glad  earth  drunk  their  blood 

On  old  Plataja's  day  ; 
And  now  there  breathed  that  haunted  air 
The  sons  of  sires  who  conquered  there, 
With  arm  to  strike,  and  soul  to  dare, 

As  quicV,  as  tar  as  they. 

An  hour  passed  on  —  the  Turk  awoke  ■ 
That  bright  dream  was  his  last  ; 


164  ROSS'S   SPEAKER 

He  woke  —  to  hear  his  sentries  shriek, 
"  To  arms  !  they  come  !  the  Greek  !  the  Greed  ! p 
He  woke  —  to  die  'midst  flame,  and  smoke, 
And  shout,  and  groan,  and  saber  stroke, 

And  death  shots  falling  thick  and  fast 
As  lightnings  from  the  mountain  cloud  ; 
And  heard,  with  voice  as  trumpet  loud, 

Bozzarls  cheer  his  band  : 
"  Strike  —  till  the  last  armed  foe  expires  , 
Strike  —  for  your  altars  and  your  fires  ; 
Strike  —  for  the  green  graves  of  your  sires'; 

God  —  and  your  native  land  !  " 

They  fought,  like  brave  men,  long  and  well : 

They  piled  that  ground  with  Moslem  slain  s 
They  conquered  —  but  Bozzaris  fell, 

Bleeding  at  every  vein. 
His  few  surviving  comrades  saw 
His  smile  when  rang  their  proud  hurrah, 

And  the  red  field  was  won ; 
Then  saw  in  death  his  eyelids  close 
Calmly,  as  to  a  night's  repose, 

Like  flowers  at  set  of  sun. 

Come  to  the  bridal  chamber,  Death  ! 

Come  to  the  mother,  when  she  feels, 
For  the  first  time,  her  first  bom's  breath  ; 

Come  when  the  blessed  seals 
That  close  the  pestilence  are  broke, 
And  crowded  cities  wail  its  stroke  ; 
Come  in  consumption's  ghastly  form, 
The  earthquake  shock,  the  ocean  storm  ; 
Come  when  the  heart  beats  high  and  warm, 

With  banquet  song,  and  dance,  and  wine ; 
And  thou  art  terrible  —  the  tear, 
The  groan,  the  knell,  the  pall,  the  bier  ; 
And  all  we  know,  or  dream,  01  fear 

Of  agony,  are  thine. 

But  to  the  hero,  when  his  sword 

Has  won  the  battle  for  the  free, 
Thy  voice  sounds  like  a  prophet's  work ; 
.     And  in  its  hollow  tones  are  heard 
The  thanks  of  millions  yet  to  be. 


THIS  POET.  165 


Boezaris  !  with  the  storied  brave 
Greece  nurtured  in  her  glory's  time, 

Rest  thee  —  there  is  no  prouder  grave, 

Even  in  her  own  proud  clime. 
We  tell  thy  doom  without  a  sigh, 

For  thou  art  Freedom's  now,  and  Fame's 

One  of  the  few,  the  immortal  names, 
That  were  not  born  to  die. 


The  Poet.  —  s.muh  j.  clabkb. 

(A  PARODY   ON  MARCC  B0ZZAR1S.) 

At  midnight,  in  his  cottage  small, 

The  bard  was  dreaming  of  the  times 
When  cheerily  from  camp  and  hall 

Rang  out  the  minstrel's  rhymes  : 
In  dreams  through  courtly  scenes  he  roved 
In  dreams  a  royal  mistress  loved  ; 

In  dreams  he  clasped  her  as  his  bride  ; 
Then  revelled  at  the  board  of  kings, 
Bedecked  with  ribbons,  stars,  and  rings  , 
And  ever  woke  his  harp's  wild  strings 

To  notes  of  ioy  and  pride  ! 

At  midnight,  in  the  court  beneath, 

The  sheriff  ranged  a  savage  band, 
Following  their  game  up  to  the  death 

With  murderous  notes  of  hand. 
There  was  the  draper,  trim  and  neat, 
There  was  the  burly  man  of  meat, 

Landlord,  and  tailors  four, — 
Bound  on  an  errand  all  unblest, 
Like  envious  cranes  met  to  molest, 
With  their  long  bills,  a  skylark's  nest 

They  thronged  the  poet's  door. 

An  hour  passed  on  —  the  hard  awoko  ; 

That  poet-dream  was  past  ; 
He  wakened  to  a  crj  of  fear  — 
Of  "  Hide,  dear  Tom  :  the  sheriff's  hereT 
lie  woke  to  find  him  afe  hid 

Beneath  ■•>  nru  al  chest's  friendly  lid  • 
H 


166  ROSS'S   SPEAKER. 

To  mutter  sacres,  fierce  and  fast, 
On  baffled  foes  that  round  him  crowd, 
And  hear,  in  accents  sharp  and  loud, 

The  sheriff  cheer  his  band  ! 
Searcn  —  till  each  closet  is  explored  , 
Search,  landlord  —  for  thy  bill  of  board 
Search  —  for  the  wines  against  him  scored  . 

And,  tailors,  lend  a  hand  ! 

Thev  sought,  like  Shylocks,  long  and  hard, 

Around,  beneath,  and  overhead  ; 
But  vainly  all  —  they  left  the  bard 

Snug  in  his  mealv  bed. 
Then  his  indignant  Susan  saw 
Those  shameless  wreckers  of  the  law 

Had  nabbed  his  Sunday  coat ; 
She  saw  the  fearful  look  he  wore, 
As  then  and  there  he  roundly  swore 
To  leave  his  thankless  native  shore, 

Upon  that  morning's  boat ! 


On  Mr.   Clay's  Resolutions.—  websteb, 

And  now,  Mr.  President,  instead  of  speaking  of  the  possi- 
bility or  utility  of  secession,  instead  of  dwelling  in  these  caverns 
of  darkness,  instead  of  groping  with  those  ideas  so  full  of  all 
that  is  horrid  and  horrible,  let  us  come  out  into  the  light  of  day  ; 
let  us  enjoy  the  fresh  air  of  liberty  and  union  ;  let  us  cherish 
those  hopes  which  belong  to  us  ;  let  us  devote  ourselves  to  those 
great  objects  that  are  fit  for  our  consideration  and  our  action ; 
let  us  raise  our  conceptions  to  the  magnitude  and  the  importance 
of  the  duties  that  devolve  upon  us  ;  let  our  comprehension  be  as 
broad  as  the  country  for  which  we  act,  our  aspirations  as  high 
as  its  certain  destiny  ;  let  us  not  be  pygmies  in  a  case  that  calls 
for  men.  Never  did  there  devolve  on  any  generation  of  men 
higher  trusts  than  now  devolve  upon  us,  for  the  preservation  of 
this  constitution,  and  the  harmony  and  peace  of  all  who  are 
destined  to  live  under  it.  Let  us  make  our  generation  one  of 
the  strongest  and  brightest  links  in  that  golden  chain,  which  is 
destined,  1  *ondly  believe,  to  grapple  the  people  of  all  the  states 
to  this  constitution  for  ages  to  come. 

We  have  a  great,  popular,  constitutional  government,  guarded 
by  law  and  by  judicature,  and  defended  by  the  wtole  affections 


JUSTICE   TO    THE    WHOLE    COUNTRY.  167 

uf  the  people.  No  monarchical  throne  presses  these  states 
together  ;  no  iron  chain  of  military  power  encircles  them  ;  they 
live  and  stand  upon  a  government  popular  in  its  form,  repre- 
sentative in  its  character,  founded  upon  principles  of  equality, 
and  so  constructed,  we  hope,  as  to  last  forever.  In  all  its  history 
it  has  been  beneficent  ;  it  lias  trodden  down  no  man's  liberty  — 
it  has  crushed  no  state.  Its  daily  respiration  is  liberty  and  pa- 
triotism ;  its  yet  youthful  veins  are  full  of  enterprise,  courage, 
and  honorable  love  of  glory  and  renown.  Large  before,  tho 
country  has  now,  by  recent  events,  become  vastly  larger.  This 
republic  now  extends,  with  a  vast  breadth,  across  the  whole  con- 
tinent. The  two  great  seas  of  the  world  wash  the  one  and  the 
other  shore.  We  realize,  on  a  mighty  scale,  the  beautiful 
description  of  the  ornamental  edging  of  the  buckler  of  Achilles, — 

"  Now  the  broad  shield  complete,  the  artist  crowned 
"With  his  last  hand,  and  poured  the  ocean  round  : 
In  living  silver  seemed  the  waves  to  roll, 
And  beat  the  buckler's  verge,  and  bound  the  whole 


Justice  to  the  Whole  Country.— Webster, 

I  think,  sir,  the  country  calls  upon  us  loudly  and  impera- 
tively to  settle  this  question.  I  think  that  the  whole  world  is 
looking  to  see  whether  this  great  popular  government  can  get 
through  such  a  crisis.  We  are  the  observed  of  all  observers. 
It  is  not  to  be  disputed  or  doubted  that  the  eyes  of  all  Christen- 
dom are  upon  us.  We  have  stood  through  many  trials.  Can 
we  stand  through  this,  which  takes  so  much  the  character  of  a 
sectional  controversy  ?  Can  we  stand  that  ?  There  is  no  in- 
quiring  man  in  all  Europe  who  does  not  ask  himself  that  ques 
>.ion  every  day,  when  he  reads  the  intelligence  of  the  morning 
Can  this  country,  with  one  set  of  interests  at  the  south,  and 
another  set  of  interests  at  the  north, —  these  interests  supposed, 
but  falsely  supposed,  to  be  at  variance,  —  can  this  people  see, 
what  is  bo  evident  to  the  whole  world  beside,  that  this  Union  is 
iheir  main  hope  and  greatest  benefit,  and  that  their  interests  are 
entirely  compatible  ?  Can  they  see,  and  will  they  feel,  that  their 
prosperity,  their  respectability  among  the  nations  of  the  earth, 
iiiifl  their  happiness  ;it  home,  depend  upon  the  maintenance  of 
their  union  and  their  constitution  ?  That  is  the  question.  1 
agree  thai  local  divisions  are  apt  to  overturn  the  understandings 


10b  KOSS'S   SPEAKER. 

of  men,  and  to  excite  a  belligerent  feeling  between  section  and 
Bection.  It  is  natural,  in  times  of  irritation,  for  one  part  of  the 
country  to  say,  "  If  you  do  that,"  I  will  do  this,  and  so  get  up  a 
feeling  of  hostility  and  defiance.  Then  comes  belligerent  legis- 
lation, and  then  an  appeal  to  arms.  The  question  is,  whether  we 
have  the  true  patriotism,  the  Americanism,  necessary  to  carry 
us  through  such  a  trial.  The  whole  world  is  looking  towards  us, 
with  extreme  anxiety. 

For  myself,  I  propose,  sir,  to  abide  by  the  principles  and  the 
purposes  which  I  have  avowed.  I  shall  stand  by  the  Union,  and 
by  all  who  stand  by  it.  I  shall  do  justice  to  the  whole  country, 
according  to  the  best  of  my  ability,  in  all  I  say,  and  act  for 
the  good  of  the  whole  country  in  all  I  do.  I  mean  to  stand  upon 
the  constitution.  I  need  no  other  platform.  I  shall  know  but 
one  country.  The  ends  I  aim  at  shall  be  my  Country's,  my 
God's,  and  Truth's.  I  was  born  an  American ;  I  live  an  Amer- 
ican ;  I  shall  die  an  American ;  and  I  intend  to  perform  the 
duties  incumbent  upon  me  in  that  character  to  the  end  of 
my  career.  I  mean  to  do  this,  with  absolute  disregard  of  per- 
sonal consequences.  What  are  personal  consequences  ?  What 
is  the  individual  man,  with  all  the  good  or  evil  that  may  betide 
him,  in  comparison  with  the  good  or  evil  which  may  befall  a 
great  country  in  a  crisis  like  this,  and  in  the  midst  of  great 
transactions  which  concern  that  country's  fate  ?  Let  the  con- 
sequences be  what  they  will,  I  am  careless.  No  man  can 
suffer  too  much,  and  no  man  can  fall  too  soon,  if  he  suffer, 
or  if  he  fall,  in  defence  of  the  liberties  and  constitution  of  his 
country. 


All  for  Good  Order.— t>.  p.  Pack. 

Characters.  —  Schoolmaster;  —  Isaac,  a  schoolboy  ;  —  Mr.  Fosdick  ; 
Bill,  his  son  ;  —  Mrs.  O'Clart,  (Irish  ;)  Patrick,  her  son  ;  —  'Sqvire 
Snyder  ;  Jonas,  his  son  ;  —  Saunders,  a  drunken  fellow  ;  Jabez,  his 
son  ;  —  some  half  dozen  schoolboys. 

Master.  {Setting  copies  alone.)  Well,  so  here  I  am  again, 
after  another  night's  sleep.  But,  sleep  or  no  sleep,  I  feel  about 
as  much  fatigued  in  the  morning  as  I  do  at  night.  It  is  impos- 
sible to  get  the  cares  and  anxieties  of  my  profession  out  of  my 
mind.  It  does  seem  to  rne  that  .he  parents  of  some  of  my 
pupils  are  very  unfeeling  ;  lor  I  know  I  have  done  my  very  best 
to  keep  a  good  school,  and  however  I  may  have  failed  in  some 
distances    I  have  the  satisfaction  of  feeling,  in  my  conscience, 


A.LL   FUR   GOOD    OBDEK.  I6i* 

that  my  host  endeavors  have  been  devoted  to  my  work.  —  A 
merry  lot  of  copies  here,  to  be  set  before  school  time.  (Looking 
at  his  watch.)  But  "  a  diligent  hand  will  accomplish  much." 
By  the  way,  that  will  do  for  a  copy  for  Jonas  Snyder  —  little 
culprit!  He  was  very  idle  yesterday.  (Thinking  and  busy.) 
What  can  that  story  mean,  which  Mr.  Truetell  told  me  this 
morning  ?  Five  or  six  !  —  who  could  they  be  :  —  five  or  six  of 
the  parents  of  my  scholars  dreadfully  offended  !  Let  me  see  : 
What  have  I  done  ?  Nothing  very  lately,  that  I  recollect.  Let's 
see  ;  yesterday  ?  No,  there  was  nothing  yesterday,  except  that  I 
detained  the  class  in  geography  till  they  got  their  lessons.  O, 
yes  ;  Jonas  Snyder  was  punished  for  idleness.  But  I  spoke  to 
him  four  or  five  times,  and  he  would  do  nothing  but  whisper, 
and  whittle  his  bench  ;  and  when  at  last  he  half  ate  up  an  apple, 
and  threw  the  rest  at  Jacob  Readslow,  I  thought  he  deserved  it. 
Let's  see:  1  gave  him  six  claps  —  three  on  each  hand.  Well, 
he  did  not  get  more  than  his  deserts.  (Enter  one  of  the  schol- 
ars, with  his  looks  under  his  arm,  walking  slowly,  and  eying 
I  he  master,  to  his  seat.  Master,  still  busy,  and  thinking,  by  and 
by  says,)  Isaac,  you  may  come  to  me. 

(He  walks  along,  and  says,)  Sir  ! 

Master.  Do  you  remember  (placing  his  pen  over  his  ear, 
and  turning  earnestly  and  portentously  round)  whether  I  pun- 
i  jhed  any  scholars  yesterday  ? 

Isaac.  Yes,  sir  ;  you  feruled  Jone  Snyder,  for  playing  and 
laughing, 

DO 

Master.     Did  I  punish  any  one  else  ? 
Isaac.     Not  as  I  recollect. 
Master.     Think,  Isaac;  think  carefully. 
Isaac.     You  kept  a  lot  of  us  after  school,  for  not  saying  our 
lessons 


Master.  (Quickly.)  You  mean,  Isaac,  rather,  I  kept  you  to 
get  your  lessons,  which  you  had  neglected. 

Isaac.  Yes,  sir  ;  and  you  made  Patrick  O'Clary  stop  and 
sweep,  because  he  staid  out  too  lute  after  recess. 

Master.     O,  yes  ;  I  remember  that. 

Isaac.  He  was  as  mad  as  a  hop  about  it ;  he  said  he  meant 
to  tell  his  mother  that  you  made  him  sweep  for  nothing. 

Master.  Hush  !  hush  !  You  shouldn't  tell  tales.  Do  you 
remember  any  other  punishments  ? 

Isaac.  No,  Bit  ;  nut  yesterday.  You  hit  Jab"  Saunders  a 
cli[>  across  the  knuckles,  with  the  cowskin,  day  befoT  yester- 
day. Don't  you  remember?  .lust  as  he  stretched  out  his 
band  to  hook  that  old  rag  upon  Tom  Willis's  collar,  you  came 


HO  KOSS'S   SPEAKER. 

along  behind  him,  and  clip  went  the  old  whip,  right  across  hia 
fingers,  and  down  went  the  old  rag.  There,  1  never  was  more 
glad  to  see  any  thing  in  my  life  !  Little  dirty,  mean  fellow  !  — 
he's  always  sticking  things  upon  fellows.  I  saw  him  once  pin 
an  old  dirty  rag  upon  a  man's  coat,  just  as  he  was  putting  a 
letter  into  the  post  office.     I  never  saw  such  a  fellow  ! 

( The  other  hoys  coming  in  gradually,  the  master  rings  his 
little  bell,  and  says,)  Boys,  come  to  order,  and  take  your  hocks. 
Now,  boys,  I  wish  to  see  if  we  can't  have  a  good  school  to-dav. 
Let's  see  :  are  we  all  here  ? 

Boys.     No,  sir !     No,  sir  ! 

Master.     Who  is  absent  ? 

Boys.  Jone  Snyder !  Jabe  Saunders !  Patrick  O'Clary ! 
and 

Master.  Speak  one  at  a  time,  my  boys.  Don't  make  confu- 
sion, to  begin  with;  —  and,  {looking  around  them,) — O,  Bill 
Fosdick,  —  only  four  ! 

One  of  the  boys.  Pat  O'Clary  is  late.  I  saw  him  down  in 
Baker  Street,  poking  along.     He  always  comes  late 

Master.     Did  he  say  he  was  coming  ? 

Same  Boy.  I  asked  him  if  he  was  coming  to  school,  and  he 
shook  his  head,  and  muttered  out  something  about  his  mother, 
and  I  ran  along  and  left  him. 

Master.  Well,  hoys,  now  let  us  try  to  have  a  still  school 
and  close  study  to-day,  and  see  if  it  is  not  more  pleasant  to 
learn  than  to  play.  {Rises  and  walks  to  and  fro  on  the  stage.) 
Take  the  geography  lesson,  James  and  Samuel,  first  thing  this 
morning  ;  and,  Isaac,  I  don't  wish  to  detain  you  again  to-day. 
{Loud  knock  at  the  door.) 

{Enter  Bill  Fosdick,  walking  importantly  and  consequentially 
up  to  the  master,  and  says,)  Here  !  father  wants  to  see  you  at 
the  door  ! 

{Master  turns  to  go  to  the  door,  followed  by  Bill,  who  wishes 
to  hear  all  thaCs  said,  and  Mr.  Fosdick,  looking  quite  savage, 
steps  right  inside,  the  master  politely  bowing,  with  a  "  good 
morning." 

Fosdick.  Here,  sir ;  I  want,  to  see  you  about  my  boy.  I 
don't  like  to  have  you  keep  him  after  school  every  day  ;  I  want 
him  at  home,  —  and  I  should  like  to  have  you  dismiss  him  when 
school  is  done.  If  he  wants  lickin',  lick  him  —  that's  all;  but 
don't  you  knep  him  here  an  hour  or  two  every  day  after  school. 
I  don't  send   lim  here  for  that ! 

Master.     But,  my  good  sir,  I  have  not  often  detained  him 
not  more  than  twice  within  a  fort 


ALL   FOR   GOOD   ORDER.  171 

Fos.     Well,  don't  you  do  it  again  —  that's  all ! 

Master.  Cut,  sir,  I  have  only  detained  him  to  learn  the  lea. 
sons  which  he  might  learn  in  school  ;  and  surely,  if 

Fos.  Well,  well,  sir  !  don't  you  do  it  again  !  —  that's  all  I 
have  to  say  !  If  he  behaves  bad,  you  lick  him  —  only  do  it  in 
reason.     But  when  school  is  done,  I  want  him  dismissed. 

Master.  Sir,  I  do  what  I  conceive  to  be  my  duty  ;  and  I 
serve  all  my  scholars  alike  ;  and  while  I  would  be  willing  to  ac- 
commodateyou,  I  shall  do  what  I  think  is  my  duty.  (Gathering 
spirit  and  gravity,  and  advancing.)  Sir,  do  I  understand  you 
wish  me  to  whip  your  son  for  not  getting  his  lesson  ? 

Fos.  Yes  —  no  —  yes  —  in  reason  ;  I  don't  want  my  chil- 
dren's bones  broke. 

Master.  (Taking  from  the  desk  a  cowhide.)  Do  you  prefer 
your  son  should  be  whipped  to  being  detained  ? 

Fos.  I  don't  think  not  getting  his  lessons  is  such  a  dreadful 
crime.  I  never  used  to  get  my  lessons,  and  old  Master  Pepper- 
mint never  used  to  lick  me,  and  I  am  sure  he  never  kept  me 
after  school  ;  but  we  used  to  have  schools  good  for  sum  fin  in 
them  days.  —  Bill,  go  to  your  seat,  and  behave  yourself;  and 
when  school  is  done,  you  come  home.     That's  all  I  have  to  say. 

Master.  But  stop,  my  boy  !  (Speaking  to  Bill,  decidedly.) 
There  happen  to  be  two  sides  to  this  question.  There  is  some- 
thing further  to  be  said,  before  you  go  to  your  seat  in  this 
school. 

Fos.  What !  you  don't  mean  to  turn  him  out  of  school,  du 
ye  ?     (Somebody  knocks.) 

(A  boy  steps  to  the  door,  and  in  steps  Mrs.  0'  Clary,  who, 
approaching  Fosdick,  says,)  Is  it  you  that's  the  schoolmaster, 
sure?  It's  I  that's  after  spaking  to  the  schoolmaster.  (Cur- 
tesying.) 

Fos.     No  ;  I'm  no  schoolmaster. 

Master.     What  is  your  wish,  madam  ? 

Mrs.  0'  Clary.     I  wants  to  spake  with  the  schoolmaster,  1  do, 
ir     (Curtesies.) 

Master.  Well,  madam,  (rapping  to  keep  the  boys  still,  who 
are  disposed  to  laugh,)  I  am  the  schoolmaster.  What  is  your 
\»;:h? 

Mrs.  O'C.  Why,  sir,  my  little  spalpeen  of  a  son  goes  to  this 
school,  he  does  ;  and  lie  says  he's  made  to  swape  every  day,  he 
is  ;  and  it's  all  for  nothing,  he  tills  me  ;  and  sure  I  don't  like  it, 
1  don't;  and  I'm  kirn  to  complain  to  ye,  I  have.  It's  Patrick 
O'Clary  thai  I'm  Bpakingof;  and  it's  1  that's  his  mither,  I  be  ; 
and  his  poor  father  was  Paddy  O'Clary  from  Cork,  it  was  —  rest 
hia  sowl  1 


172  ROSS'S   SPEAKER. 

Master.  We  1,  madam,  he  has  never  swept  but  once,  I  believe  , 
and  that,  surely,  was  not  without  a  good  reason. 

Mrs.  O'  C.  But  himself  tills  a  different  story,  he  does  ;  and  J 
nivcr  knew  him  till  but  one  lie  in  my  life,  I  didn't ;  and  that 
was  as  good  as  none.  But  the  little  spalpeen  shall  be  after 
tilling  his  own  stowry,  he  shall ;  for  it's  he  that's  waiting  in  the 
entry,  and  will  till  ye  no  lie,  at  all,  at  all,  —  upon  that  ye  may 
depind  ;  though  it's  his  mither  that  says  it,  and  sure  !  (Calls.) 
Patrick  !  Patrick !  Patrick !  My  dear,  here's  your  mither 
wants  ye  to  come  in,  and  till  master  how  it's  you  that's  kept  to 
swape  ivry  day,  and  it's  all  for  nothing,  it  is.  Come  in,  I  say, 
in  a  jiffy  !  (Patrick,  scratching  his  head,  enters.)  Here's  your 
mither,  dear:  now  till  your  master,  —  and  till  the  truth, —  didn't 
ye  till  your  mither  that  ye  had  to  swape  ivry  day  for  nothing  ; 
and  it's  you  that's  going  to  be  kept  swaping  ivry  day  for  a 
mc|ith  to  come,  and  sure  ? 

Master.     Now  tell  the  truth,  Patrick. 

Patrick.  (Looking  at  his  mother.)  No  ;  1  niver  said  no 
such  words,  and  sure.  I  said  how  Ps  kept  to  swape  yisterday, 
for  staying  out  too  late  ;  and  that's  all  I  said  'bout  it,  at  all, 
at  all. 

Mrs.  O'  C.  "  Cush  la  macree  !  "  Little  sonny,  how  you  talk  ! 
He's  frightened,  he  is,  and  sure.  (Turning  to  Fosdick.)  He's 
always  bashful  before  company,  he  is.  But,  master,  it's  I  that 
don't  like  to  have  him  made  to  swape  the  school,  indade  ;  and  if 
you  can  do  nothing  else,  I  shall  be  in  sad  taking,  I  shall,  and 
sure.  If  you  should  be  after  bating  him,  I  should  make  no 
complaint ;  for  I  bates  him  myself,  whiniver  he  lies  to  his  mither 
—  a  little  spalpeen  that  he  is.  But  I  can't  bear  to  have  him 
made  to  do  the  humbling  work  of  swaping,  at  all,  at  all ;  and 
it's  I  that  shall  make  a  "  clish  ma  claver,"  an'  it's  not  stopped  — 
indade  I  shall.      (Somebody  knocks.) 

(Isaac  steps  to  the  door,  and  returning,  says,)  'Squire  Sny- 
der wishes  to  see  you,  sir. 

Master.  (Smiling.)  Well,  ask  Mr.  Snyder  to  step  in.  We 
may  as  well  have  a  regular  court  of  it. 

(Isaac  waits  upon  him  in,  leading  Jonas,  with  his  hands 
poulticed.) 

Master.  (Smiling.)  Good  morning,  Mr.  Snyder;  —  walk 
in,  sir. 

Mr.  Snyder.    (Rather  gentlemanly.)    I  hope  you  will  excuse 
my  interrupting  your  school  ;  but  I  called  to  inquire  what  Jonas, 
here,  could  have  lone,  that  you  bruised  him  up  at  such  a  rate 
Poor  little  fellow  !    he  came  home,  taking  on  as  if  his  heart 


ALL  FOR    GOOD   ORDER.  173 

would  break  ;  and  both  his  hands  swelled  up  bigger  than  m.ne  ; 
and  he  said  you  had  been  beating  him  for  nothing.  I  thought, 
I'd  come  up  and  inquire  into  it;  for  I  don't  hold  to  this  banging 
and  abusing  children,  and  especially  when  they  haven1!  done 
any  thing  ;  though  I'm  a  friend  to  good  order. 

71/  '  r.  I  was  not  aware  that  I  punished  him  very  severe- 
ly, s  , . 

Mr.  Snyder.  0,  it  was  dreadfully  severe.  Why,  the  poor 
little  fellow's  hands  pained  him  so,  that  his  mother  had  to  poultice 
them,  and  sit  up  with  him  all  night ;  and  this  morning  she 
wanted  to  come  up  to  school  with  him  herself;  but  I  told  her  I 
guessed  she  better  let  me  come.  Jonas,  do  your  hands  ache 
now,  dear  ? 

Jonas.  (Holding  them  both  out  together.)  O,  dreadfully  ! 
They  feel  as  if  they  were  in  the  fire. 

Mr.  Snyder.  Well,  dear,  keep  composed  ;  don't  cry,  dear. 
Now,  sir,  (addressing  the  master,)  this  was  all  for  nothing. 

Master.     No,  sir.     It  was  for  something,  I  am  thinking. 

Jonas.  I  say  I  did  not  do  nothing;  so  there,  now.  (Some 
body  knocks.) 

Master.  Gentlemen,  sit  down.  (Looking  perjilexed.)  Sit 
down,  madam.  Give  me  a  little  time,  and  I'll  endeavor  to  set 
the  matter  right.     (All  sitting  down  but.  the  boys.) 

Mr.  Snyder.  Why,  I  don't  wish  to  make  a  serious  matter  of 
it.  I  shan't  prosecute  you.  I  was  only  going  to  ask  if  you 
couldn't  devise  some  other  kind  of  punishment  than  pommeling. 
If  you'd  made  him  stop  after  school,  or  set  him  to  sweeping  the 
house,  or  scouring  the  benches,  or  even  whipped  him  with  a 
cowhide  or  a  switch  stick,  I  should  not  have  complained  ;  but  ] 
don't  like  this  beating  boys.     (Knocking  again.) 

Master.  Isaac,  go  and  see  who  is  at  the  door.  (Isaac,  goes, 
and  in  stalks  Saunders,  ivilh  his  son  Jabez.) 

Saunders.  (Boiving  and  flourishing.)  Here!  halloo!  Here, 
I  say,  Mr.  Schoolmaster,  settle  up  the  score  as  ye  goes  along. 
I  say,  (snatching  a  cowhide,)  you  have  been  horsewhipping  my 
boy  here,  hain't  you  ?  By  the  fifteen  gallon  law,  you  don't 
come  that  game  over  the  son  of  Nehemiah  Saunders,  you  see, 

you  pale-faced,  good-for-nothing But  pardon  me,  master  ; 

I  a\  your  pardon  ;  for  'Miah  Saunders  always  was,  and  always 
will  be,  a  gentleman.  —  Ye  see,  —  don't  ye  sec  ?  —  (hiccough* 
in"  —  lifts  off  his  hal,)  —  ye  see  —  111  tell  ye  what,  master  — 
if  Pil  only  known  it  yesterday,  ye  see,  I'd  a  been  here  and  — 
but  —  ye  see — yesterday  —  I  was  ver)  particularly  engaged  — 


174  ROSS'S   SPEAKER. 

but  now     (approaching,  and  switching  the    cowhide,)  ye  see 
we'll  know  who's  the  strongest.     I'll  give  you 

Mrs.  O'C.    {Screeching.)     La  !  what  shall  I  do  ?     If  there' 
a  going  to  be  fighting,  by  St.  Patrick,  I  shall  go  into  hysterics. 
—  O  dear  !  dear  !  dear ! 

Master.     O,  don't  be  frightened,  madam. 

Saunders.  {Looking  at  the  woman.)  O,  ha,  ha !  Why, 
Cathleen  O'Clary  —  ye  see  —  why,  have  you  left  your  washtub 
to  go  to  school  ?  Why,  bless  my  heart !  Why,  ye  see,  bless 
me  !  —  the  master  here  will  have  a  most  tractable  pupil  in  you, 
Cathleen.  Why,  my  stars  !  ye  see  —  and  here  is  neighbor  Fos- 
dick  :  why,  how  de  du,  neighbor  Fosdick  ?  {Bowing  very  low 
to  Snyder.)  How  do  you  do,  'Squire  Snyder  ?  Why,  I  hope  I 
hain't  been  disturbing  a  court,  nor  nothing.  {Rubbing  his  head, 
tyc.)  The  truth  is,  I  felt  dreadfully  provoked,  when  I  heard 
that  master  here  had  been  whipping  my  son  with  a  raw  hide,  like 
a  horse  ;  and  says  I,  I  don't  sleep  till  I  have  whipped  him  —  and 
all  for  nothing,  too  !  —  I've  nothing  against  licking,  Mr.  School- 
master, if  you  use  the  right  kind  of  licking.  Ferule  a  boy,  or 
give  him  a  stick,  till  he  cries  "  Enough  ! "  but  none  of  your 
horsewhipping,  I  say!  —  ye  see  —  I  can't  stand  that !  {During 
this  speech,  Jabe  archly  hangs  an  old  rag  upon  his  father'' s  coat, 
and  steps  back,  and  laughs  at  it.) 

Mr.  Fosdick.  {Who  saw  it.)  Mr.  Saunders,  what  is  that 
you've  got  upon  your  coat  ?     {Examining.) 

Saunders.  On  my  coat,  —  where?  {Looks,  and  after  a 
while  finds  it,  and  says,  in  awful  rage,)     "  Who  did  that  ?  " 

Fos.     It  was  your  hopeful  son,  there. 

Saunders.  You  little  villain  of  a  scamp  !  {Attempting  to  hit 
him  with  the  whip,  but  staggering,  fails.)  I'll  whip  the  hide  all 
off  of  you,  I  will.  Master,  he's  in  your  house  ;  order  him  to 
me,  and  I'll  show  you  how  to  use  the  cowhide  ! 

Master.  Be  calm,  sir  ;  be  calm.  Will  you  be  good  enough 
to  sit  down  ?  You  are  a  gentleman,  you  say  ;  then  oblige  me 
by  sitting  down  between  these  two  gentlemen. 

Saunders.  That  I  will.  I'll  oblige  any  gentleman.  {After 
many  attempts,  gets  to  the  seat.) 

Master.  And  now,  gentlemen,  and  {bowing)  madam,  I  think 
we  may  each  of  us  begin  to  see  the  beauty  of  variety,  especially 
in  the  matter  of  opinion.  That  you  may  all  understand  the 
whole  case,  I  will  state,  in  a  few  words,  the  facts,  as  they  actu- 
ally occurred.  Day  before  yesterday,  our  young  friend  Jabez 
{pointing  to  kirn)  was  playing  his  favorite  trick  of  hanging  his 
rag  signal  upon  a  schoolmate,  after  the  fashion  in  w'nch  ho  ha* 


ALL   FOR   GOOD   ORDER,  175 

here  so  filially  served  nis  father,  within  a  few  minutes  ;  and 
standing  near  him  at  the  time,  with  my  whip  in  hand,  I  could 
not  resist  the  temptation  to  salute  his  mischievous  knuckles  with 
a  well-directed  stroke,  which,  however  effectually  it  may  have 
cut  his  own  fingers  and  his  father's  sensibilities,  it  seems  has  not 
cut  off  his  ruling  propensity.  Yesterday  was  emphatically  a 
day  of  sinning  on  my  part.  Jonas  Snyder,  whose  little  hands 
have  swelled  to  such  enormous  magnitude,  for  constant  idleness 
was  often  reproved  ;  and  after  all  this,  when  he  threw  a  portion 
or  an  apple  at  a  more  industrious  boy,  thus  disturbing  many  of 
those  well-disposed  boys,  he  was  called  and  feruled,  receiving 
six  strokes  —  three  on  each  hand  —  with  the  rule  I  now  show 
you.  Little  Patrick  O'Clary  was  required  to  sweep  the  school- 
room floor  for  a  strong  instance  of  tardiness  at  recess  ;  and  this 
punishment  was  given  because  I  did  not  wish  to  inflict  a  severer 
one  upon  so  small  a  lad.  And  last,  this  little  fellow  {pointing  to 
Bill  Fosdick)  was  detained,  in  common  with  seven  others,  to 
learn  a  lesson  which  he  neglected  to  learn  at  the  proper  time. 

Such  are  the  facts.  And  yet  each  of  you  has  assured  me 
that  I  have  incurred  your  displeasure  by  using  a  punishment  you 
disapprove,  and  "  all  for  nothing."  You  have  each  one  taken 
the  trouble  to  come  to  this  room,  to  render  my  task  —  already 
sufficiently  perplexing  —  still  more  so.  by  giving  parental  sup- 
port to  childish  complaints,  and  imparting  your  censure,  in  no 
measured  terms,  upon  the  instructor  of  your  children.  Rut  this 
is  a  most  interesting  case.  You  all  happen  to  be  here  together, 
and  you  thus  give  me  the  opportunity  I  have  long  wished,  to 
show  you  your  own  inconsistencies. 

It  is  easy  to  complain  of  your  teacrnr  ;  but  perhaps  either  of 
you,  in  your  wisdom,  would  find  it  not  quite  so  easy  to  take  my 
place  and  escape  censure.  How  would  either  of  you  have  got 
along  in  the  present  instance  ?  Mr.  Fosdick,  who  is  displeased 
with  detention  after  school,  would  have,  according  to  his  own 
recommendation,  resorted  to  "licking,"  either  with  ferule  or 
whip.  In  this  case,  he  would  have  incurred  the  censure  of  his 
friends,  'Squire  Snyder  and  Mr.  Saunders.  The  squire,  in 
turn,  would  have  raised  the  displeasure  of  both  his  friends,  by 
resorting  to  his  favorite  mode  of  detaining  and  cowhiding. 
Mistress  O'Clary  would  give  the  "  spalpeens  "  a  "  bating,"  as  she 
says,  after  her  own  peculiar  fashion,  with  which  the  squire  and 
Mr.  Saunders  could  not  have  been  over-much  pleased.  And 
Mr.  Saunders  —  ay,  Mr.  'Miah  Saunders  —  if  we  may  judge 
from  the  exhibition  lie  has  just  given  us,  would  have  displeased 
sven  himself,  by  proving  to  be  what  he  most  of  all  things  detests 


176  ROSS'S   SPEAKER. 

—  a  champion  of  the  cowhide.  But  what  is  a  little  curious,  is 
it  appears,  is,  that  while  I  have  not  carried  out  the  favorite 
scheme  of  either  one  of  you,  —  which,  we  have  already  seen, 
would  be  objectionable  to  each  of  the  others,  —  but  have  adopted 
a  variety  of  punishments,  and  the  very  variety  which  your  own 
collective  suffrage  would  fix  upon,  I  have  got  myself  equally 
deep  into  hot  water  ;  and  the  grand  question  is  now,  what  shall 
I  do  ?  If  I  take  the  course  suggested  by  you  collectively,  the 
result  is  the  same.  I  see  no  other  way  but  to  take  my  own 
course,  performing  conscientiously  my  duties,  in  their  time  and 
after  their  manners,  and  then  to  demand  of  you,  and  all  others, 
the  right  of  being  sustained. 

Saunders.     {Jumping  up.)     Them  is  my  sentiments,  exactly 
Ye  see  —  I  say  —  ye  see  —  you  go  ahead,  and  —  ye  see  —  whip 
that  little  rascal  of  mine  —  ye  see — just  as  much  as  you've  a 
mind  to,  —  {turning  to  the  squire,  who  is  rising,)  —  and   you 
shall  have  this  whip  to  do  it  with.     {Handing  it  to  the  master.) 

Mr.  Snyder.  Well,  gentlemen,  my  opinion  is,  that  we  have 
been  tried  and  condemned  by  our  own  testimony,  and  there  is 
no  appeal.  My  judgment  approves  the  master  ;  and  hereafter  I 
shall  neither  hear  nor  make  any  more  complaints.  Jonas,  {turn- 
ing to  Jonas,)  my  son,  if  the  master  is  willing,  you  may  go 
home  and  tell  your  mother  to  take  off  those  poultices,  and  then 
do  you  come  to  school  and  do  as  you  are  told  ;  and  if  I  hear  of 
any  more  of  your  complaints,  I  will  double  the  dose  you  may 
receive  at  school. 

Mrs.  O'C.  And  sure,  master,  the  wife  of  Paddy  O'Clary  is 
not  the  woman  to  resist  authority  in  the  new  country ;  and  bless 
your  sowl,  if  you'll  make  my  little  spalpeen  but  a  good  boy,  it's 
I  that  will  kindly  remember  the  favor,  though  ye  make  him 
swape  until  nixt  Christmas.  Here,  Patrick,  down  upon  the  little 
knees  of  your  own,  and  crave  the  master's  forgiveness :  fcr  it's 
not  Cathleen  O'Clary 

Master.  No,  madam  ;  that  I  shall  not  allow.  I  ask  no  one 
to  kneel  to  me.  I  shall  only  require  that  he  correct  his  past 
faults,  and  obey  me  in  future. 

Mrs.  O'C.  It's  an  ungrateful  child  he  would  be,  if  ever  again 
he  should  be  after  troubling  so  kind  a  master.  St.  Patrick  bless 
ye.     {Taking  little  Pat  by  the  hand,  they  go  out.) 

Fos.  {Taking  the  master  by  the  hand,  pleasantly.)  Sir  I 
hope  I  shall  profit  by  this  day's  lesson.  I  have  only  to  say,  tha. 
I  am  perfectly  satisfied  we  are  all  wrong  ;  and  that  is,  perhaps 
the  best  assurance  1  can  give  you  that  I  think  you  are  right 
That's  all  I  have  to  say. 


THE   RIGHTEOUS   NEVER  FORSAKEN.  in 

Saunders.  Right!  right!  neighbor  Fosdick.  We  are  ali- 
ve see  —  we  are  all  come  out  on  the  wrong  side  this  time ;  ain't 
we  squire  ?  I  tell  ye  what,  Mr.  Schoolmaster,  —  'Miah  Saun- 
ders never  is  ashamed  to  back  out  (suits  the  action,  Sj'C.)  when 
he's  wrong.  I  says,  I  —  ye  see  —  'Miah  Saunders  is  all  for 
good  order.  Whip  that  boy  of  mine  —  ye  see  —  as  much  as 
you  please.  I'll  not  complain  again  —  ye  see  ;  —  whip  him  — 
says  I — ye  see  —  whip  him,  and  I  —  tell  ye — if  'Miah  Saun- 
ders don't  back  ye  up  —  then,  ye  see  —  may  I  be  chosen  presi- 
dent of — Cold  Water  Society.     (Exeunt.) 


The  Righteous  never  forsaken.  -  akow. 

It  was  Saturday  night,  and  the  widow  of  the  pine  cottage  sat 
by  her  blazing  fagots  with  her  five  tattered  children  at  her  side, 
endeavoring,  by  listening  to  the  artlessness  of  their  prattle,  to 
dissipate  the  heavy  gloom  that  pvessed  upon  her  mind.  For  a 
year,  her  own  feeble  hands  had  provided  for  her  helpless  family, 
for  she  had  no  supporter  :  she  thought  of  no  friend  in  all  the 
wide,  unfriendly  world  around. 

But  that  mysterious  Providence,  the  wisdom  of  whose  ways 
aie  above  human  comprehension,  had  visited  her  with  wasting 
bickness,  and  her  little  means  had  become  exhausted.  It  was 
now,  too,  midwinter,  and  the  snow  lay  heavy  and  deep  through 
all  the  surrounding  forests,  while  storms  still  seemed  gathering  in 
the  heavens,  and  the  driving  wind  roared  amidst  the  bounding 
pines,  and  rocked  her  puny  mansion. 

The  last  herring  smoked  upon  the  coals  before  her  ;  it  was 
the  only  article  of  food  she  possessed  ;  and  no  wonder  her  for- 
lorn, desolate  state  brought  up  in  her  lone  bosom  all  the  anxie- 
ties of  a  mother,  when  she  looked  upon  her  children  ;  and  no 
wonder,  forlorn  as  she  was,  if  she  suffered  the  heart  swellings 
of  despair  to  rise,  even  though  she  knew  that  He  whose  promise 
is  to  the  widow  and  to  the  orphan  can  not  forget  his  word. 

Providence  had  many  years  before  taken  from  her  her  eldest 
sun,  who  went  from  his  forest  home  to  try  his  fortune  on  the 
nigh  seas,  since  which  she  had  heard  no  note  or  tidings  of  him  ; 
and  in  latter  time,  had,  by  the  hand  of  death,  deprived  her  of 
the  companion  and  stall"  of  her  earthly  pilgrimage,  in  the  person 
of  her  husband.  Vet  to  this  hour  she  had  been  upborne;  she 
had  not  only  been  able  l"  provide  for  her  little  Hock,  but  had 
never  lost  an  opportunity  of  ministering  to  the  wants  of  th« 
niserable  him!  destitute- 


179  ROSS'S   SPEAKER. 

The  indolent  may  well  bear  with  poverty,  while  the  ability  U 
gain  sustenance  remains.  The  individual  who  has  but  his  own 
wants  to  supply  may  suffer  with  fortitude  the  winter  of  want ; 
his  affections  are  no*  wounded,  his  heart  not  wrung.  The  most 
desolate  in  populous  cities  may  hope  ;  for  Charity  has  not  quite 
closed  her  hand  and  heart,  and  shut  her  eyes  on  misery.  But 
the  industrious  mother  of  helpless  and  depending  child:'  n, 
far  from  the  reach  of  human  charity,  has  none  of  these  to  con- 
sole  her. 

And  such  an  one  was  the  widow  of  the  pme  cottage  ;  but  as 
she  bent  over  the  fire,  and  took  up  the  last  scanty  remnant  of 
food,  to  spread  before  her  children,  her  spirits  seemed  to  brighten 
up,  as  by  some  sudden  and  mysterious  impulse,  and  Cowper'a 
beautiful  lines  came  uncalled  across  her  mind  — 

"  Judge  not  the  Lord  by  feeble  sense, 
But  trust  him  for  his  grace ; 
Behind  a  frowning  providence 
He  hides  a  smiling  face." 

The  smoked  herring  was  scarcely  laid  upon  the  table,  when 
a  gentle  rap  at  the  door,  and  the  loud  barking  of  a  dog,  attracted 
the  attention  of  the  family.  The  children  flew  to  open  it,  and 
a  weary  traveler,  in  tattered  garments,  and  apparently  indif- 
ferent health,  entered  and  begged  a  lodging,  and  a  mouthful  of 
food.  Said  he,  "  It  is  now  twenty-four  hours  since  I  tasted 
bread."  The  widow's  heart  bled  anew  as  under  a  fresh  com- 
plication of  distresses ;  for  her  sympathies  lingered  not  round 
her  fireside.  She  hesitated  not  even  now ;  rest  and  a  share  of 
all  she  had  she  proffered  to  the  stranger.  "  We  shall  not  be  for- 
saken," said  she,  "  or  suffer  deeper  for  an  act  of  charity." 

The  traveler  drew  near  the  board ;  but  when  he  saw  the 
scanty  fare,  he  raised  his  eyes  towards  heaven  with  astonish- 
ment. "  And  is  this  all  your  store  ?  "  said  he,  "  and  a  share 
of  this  do  you  offer  to  one  you  know  not  ?  Then  never  saw  I 
charity  before.  But,  madam,"  said  he,  continuing,  "  do  you  not 
wrong  your  children  by  giving  a  part  of  your  last  mouthful  to  a 
manger  ? " 

"  Ah,"  said  the  poor  widow,  —  and  the  tear  drops  gushed  into 
her  eyes  as  she  said  it,  —  "I  have  a  boy,  a  darling  son,  some- 
where on  the  face  of  the  wide  world,  unless  Heaven  has  taken 
him  away,  and  I  only  act  toward  you  as  I  would  that  others 
should  act  toward  him.  God,  who  sent  manra  from  heaven, 
c-m  provide  for  us  as  he  did  for  Israel ;  and  how  should  1  ibis 
night  offend  him,  if  my  son  should  be  a  wanJere.*,  dosM.ite  a* 


THE   TOMB   OF   WASHINGTON.  179 

you,  and  he  should  have  provided  for  him  a  home,  even  1001  as 
this  —  were  I  to  turn  you  unrelieved  away  !  " 

The  widow  ended,  and  the  stranger,  springing  from  his  seat, 
clasped  her  in  his  arms  —  "  God  indeed  has  provided  your  son  a 
home,  and  has  given  him  wealth  to  reward  the  goodness  of  his 
benefactress.     My  mother  !  O  my  mother  !  " 

It  was  her  long  lost  son,  returned  to  her  bosom  from  the 
Indies.  He  had  chosen  that  disguise  that  he  might  the  more 
completely  surprise  his  family ;  and  never  was  surprise  more 
perfect,  or  followed  by  a  sweeter  cup  of  joy.  That  humble 
residence  in  the  forest  was  exchanged  for  one  comfortable,  and 
indeed  beautiful,  in  the  valley,  and  the  widow  lived  long  with 
her  dutiful  son,  in  the  enjoyment  of  worldly  plenty,  and  in  the 
delightful  employments  of  virtue,  and  at  this  day  the  passer  by  is 
pointed  to  the  willow  that  spreads  its  branches  above  her  grave. 


The  Tomb  of  Washington.  —  anon. 

Passing  from  the  house,  down  a  rude  and  neglected  pathway, 
and  then  over  a  little  broken,  but  already  verdant  ground,  we 
came  to  an  open  space,  and  found  ourselves  standing  before  the 
humble  tomb  of  George  Washington.  It  was  a  happy  moment 
to  visit  the  spot.  There  was  something  in  the  time  fortunate  for 
the  feelings.  The  very  elements  seemed  in  accordance  with 
the  season.  The  day  was  beautiful ;  the  sunlight  was  stream- 
ing full  upon  the  trees  round  about,  and  glowing  with  a  mellow 
beam  upon  the  grave.  The  place  was  quiet  and  embosomed  ; 
and  the  only  sound  that  we  heard,  save  that  of  our  own  hearts, 
was  the  voice  of  the  wind  through  the  pines,  or  of  the  waters  as 
they  broke  upon  the  shore  below  us. 

Who  can  analyze  his  feelings  as  he  stands  before  that  sepul- 
cher !  Who  can  tell  the  story  of  his  associations,  or  do  any 
justice,  by  his  tongue  or  his  pen,  to  the  emotions  which  the 
memories  of  the  past  awaken  there  !  The  history  of  a  whole 
country  is  overpowering  him  at  once.  Its  struggles,  its  dark- 
ness, its  despair,  its  victory,  rush  upon  him.  Its  gratitude, 
its  glory,  and  its  loss  pass  before  him,  and  in  a  few  moments 
he  lives  through  an  age  of  interest  and  wonder.  Strange  power 
of  human  mind  !  What  an  intimation  does  this  rapid  com- 
munion with  the  past,  and  with  tin;  spirits  of  the  past,  give,  at 
once,  of  their  immortality  .'11111  our  own  !  Bui  ii  i>  vain  to  follow 
out  these  feelings  here.     They  would  lill  volumes. 


180  ROSS'S   SPEAKER. 

There  fa  no  inscription  upon  the  tomb.  The  simple  words 
"  Washington  Family,"  chiseled  in  granite,  surmounts  the 
plain  brick  work.  The  masonry  was  originally  wretched,  and 
the  plaster  is  now  falling  from  it.  The  door  is  well  secured, 
and  of  iron.  There  is  a  total  absence  of  every  thing  like 
parade  or  circumstance  about  the  resting-place  of  the  hero. 
Me  sleeps  there  in  the  midst  of  the  very  simplicities  of  nature. 
Laurel  trees  wave  over  his  dust,  on  every  side,  and  the  pilgrim 
who  goes  to  stand  by  his  grave  finds  no  careful  enclosure  to 
forbid  his  too  near  approach.  In  short,  Washington  rests  in  an 
obscurity  —  just  that  obscurity  which  he  would  have  chosen,  but 
which  seems  hardly  compatible  with  the  vast  gratitude  and  deep 
reverence  of  a  great  country. 

As  we  were  standing  upon  this  spot,  a  couple  of  spanieb 
came  bounding  along,  and  following  close  was  an  old  servant 
of  the  family,  and  formerly  a  slave  of  Washington.  On  exam- 
ining him,  we  found  he  was  born  on  the  place,  and  recollected 
his  master,  and  all  he  said,  with  great  distinctness.  He  was  a 
very  aged  negro,  and  quite  gray. 

I  found  there  was  something  to  be  gathered  from  this  ancient 
of  the  family,  and  accordingly,  as  I  stood  leaning  upon  the 
broken  gate,  which  swung  before  the  door  of  the  old  tomb,  put 
him  in  the  train  by  a  few  questions.  "  In  front  of  the  new 
grave-place  yonder,"  said  he,  "  lie  buried  a  hundred  people  of 
color."  These,  it  seemed,  were  slaves  of  the  plantation,  whe 
from  time  to  time  had  died  here. 

He  spoke  of  the  great  kindness  of  Washington,  and  his 
emancipating  a  hundred  of  his  people.  "  His  wife  did  the 
same,"  added  he.  There  were  now,  he  said,  but  about  fifteen 
attached  to  the  establishment.  Passing  from  one  thing  to 
another  without  much  connection,  he  went  on  to  say,  referring 
to  Washington  —  "  I  never  see  that  man  laugh  to  show  his  teeth 
—  he  done  all  his  laughing  inside.'''1  This  I  thought  worth  i 
page  of  description. 

We  then  recurred  to  Lafayette's  visit  in  1825.  "  We  were 
obliged  to  tote  him  all  about,"  said  he  ;  by  which  I  understood 
that  the  general  was  so  overcome,  that  he  was  literally  sup- 
ported by  the  arms  of  attendants.  I  inquired  how  he  appeared 
at  the  tomb.  "  He  cried  like  a  little  infant."  "  Did  he  go  in  ?  " 
I  asked.  "  O,  yes  —  he  went  in,  sir  —  alone  —  and  he  made  a 
mighty  long  talk  there  —  but  I  don't  know  what  it  was  about." 

All  these  little  things  were  jewels.  I  loved  to  hear  such 
simple  narrations,  from  such  a  source,  and  it  was  with  ir<*Im- 
tance  1  turned  away,  after  gathering  a  relic  or  two,  and  followed 


ANECDOTE  OF  JUDOE  MARSHALL.        181 

our  old  guide  up  to  the  house  again.  But  we  had  seen  all  we 
could  see,  and  after  glancing  at  the  garden  and  greenhouse, 
which  appeared  in  all  the  coming  beauty  of  spring,  and  turning 
one  more  melancholy  gaze  upon  the  cluster  of  buildings,  which 
had  once  been  improved  by  the  great  one  who  now  slept  in  their 
shadow,  we  entered  our  carriage,  and  rode  slowly  away  from 
Mount  Vernon. 


Anecdote  of  Judge  Marshall.  —  anon. 

It  is  not  long  since  a  gentleman  was  traveling  in  one  of  tho 
counties  of  Virginia,  and  about  the  close  of  the  day  stopped  at  a 
public  house,  to  obtain  refreshment  and  spend  the  night.  He 
had  been  there  but  a  short  time,  before  an  old  man  alighted  from 
bis  gig,  with  the  apparent  intention  of  becoming  his  fellow-gues* 
at  the  same  house. 

As  the  old  man  drove  up,  he  observed  that  both  the  shafts  of 
bis  gig  were  broken,  and  that  they  were  held  together  by  withes 
formed  from  the  bark  of  a  hickory  sapling.  Our  traveler  ob- 
served further,  that  he  was  plainly  clad,  tbat  his  knee  buckles 
were  loosened,  and  that  something  like  negligence  pervaded 
bis  dress. 

Conceiving  him  to  be  one  of  the  honest  yeomanry  of  our  land, 
the  courtesies  of  strangers  passed  between  tbem,  and  they  en- 
tered the  tavern.  It  was  about  the  same  time  that  an  addition 
of  three  or  four  young  gentlemen  was  made  to  their  number  — 
most,  if  not  all  of  them,  of  the  legal  profession. 

As  soon  as  they  became  conveniently  accommodated,  the  con- 
versation was  turned,  by  one  of  the  latter,  upon  the  eloquent 
harangue  which  had  that  day  been  displayed  at  the  bar. 

It  was  replied  by  the  other,  that  he  had  witnessed  the  same 
day  a  degree  of  eloquence,  no  doubt  equal,  but  that  it  was  from 
ihe  pulpit. 

Something  like  a  sarcastic  rejoinder  was  made  to  the  elo- 
quence of  the  pulpit  ;  and  a  warm  and  able  altercation  ensued, 
•n  which  the  merits  of  the  Christian  religion  became  the  subject 
of  discussion.  From  six  o'clock  until  eleven,  the  young  cliam- 
tjions  wielded  the  sword  of  argument,  adducing  with  ingenuity 
and  ability  every  thing  that  could  be  said  pro  and  con. 

During  this  protracted  period,  the  old  gentleman  listened  with 
all  the  meekness  and  modesty  of  a  child  ;  as  if  he  was  adding 
new  information  to  the  stores  of  his  own  mind  ;  or  perhaps  he 
was  observing,  with  philosophic  eye,  the  faculties  of  the  youthful 


103  ROSS'S   SPEAKER. 

mind,  snd  how  new  energies  are  evolved  by  repeated  action  ; 
or,  perhaps,  with  patriotic  emotion,  he  was  reflecting  upon  the 
future  destinies  of  his  country,  and  on  the  rising  generation, 
upon  whom  these  future  destinies  must  devolve  ;  or,  most  prob- 
ably, with  a  sentiment  of  moral  and  religious  feeling,  he  was 
collecting  an  argument  which  (characteristic  of  himself)  no  art 
would  be  "  able  to  elude,  and  no  force  to  resist."  Our  traveler 
remained  a  spectator,  and  took  no  part  in  what  was  said. 

At  last  one  of  the  young  men,  remarking  that  it  was  impossi- 
ble to  combat  with  long  and  established  prejudices,  wheeled 
around,  and  with  some  familiarity,  exclaimed,  "  Well,  my  old 
gentleman,  what  think  you  of  these  things  ?  "  If,  said  tlie  trav- 
eler, a  streak  of  vivid  lightning  had  at  that  moment  crossed  the 
room,  their  amazement  could  not  have  been  greater  than  it  was 
with  what  followed. 

The  most  eloquent  and  unanswerable  appeal  was  made  for 
nearly  an  hour,  by  the  old  gentleman,  that  he  ever  heard  or 
read.  So  perfect  was  his  recollection,  that  every  argument 
urged  against  the  Christian  religion  was  met  in  the  order  in 
which  it  was  advanced.  Hume's  sophistry  on  the  subject  of 
miracles  was,  if  possible,  more  perfectly  answered  than  it  had 
already  been  done  by  Campbell.  And  in  the  whole  lecture  there 
was  so  much  simplicity  and  energy,  pathos  and  sublimity,  that 
not  another  word  was  uttered. 

An  attempt  to  describe  it,  said  the  traveler,  would  be  an  at- 
tempt to  paint  the  sunbeams.  It  was  now  a  matter  of  curiosity 
and  inquiry  who  the  old  gentleman  was.  The  traveler  con- 
c'uded  that  it  was  the  preacher  from  whom  the  pulpit  eloquence 
was  heard  :  but  no  —  it  was  the  Chief  Justice  of  the  Uniteti 
States*. 


Buena  Vista,  —albert  Pike. 

From  the  Rio  Grande's  waters  to  the  icy  lakes  of  Maine, 

Let  all  exult !  for  we  have  met  the  enemy  again  — 

Beneath  their  stern  old  mountains,  we  have  met  them  in  their 

pride, 
And  rolled  from  Buena  Vista  back  the  battle's  bloody  tide ; 
Where  the  enemy  came  surging,  like  the  Mississippi's  flood, 
And  the  reaper,  Death,  was  busy  with  his  sickle  red  with  blood 

Santa  Anna  boasted  loudly,  that,  before  two  hours  were  past, 
His  lancers  through  Saltillo  should  pursue  us  thick  and  fast  : 


BUENA  VISTA.  183 

On  came  his  solid  regiments,  line  marcliing  after  .ine  ; 

Lo,  their  great  standards  in  the  sun  like  sheets  of  silver  shine . 

With  thousands  upon  thousands,  yea,  with    more  than  four  to 

one, 
A  forest  of  bright  bayonets  gleams  fiercely  in  the  sun. 

Upon  them  with  your  squadrons,  May  !  —  Out  leaps  the  flaming 

steel. 
Before  his  serried  column  how  the  frightened  lancers  reel ! 
They  flee  amain.     Now  to  the  left,  to  stay  their  triumph  there, 
Or  else  the  day  is  surely  lost  in  horror  and  despair  ; 
For  their  hosts  are  pouring  swiftly  on,  like  a  river  in  the  spring 
Our  flank  is  turned,  and  on  our  left  their  cannon  thundering. 

Now,  brave  artilkry  !  bold  dragoons  ! — Steady,  my  men,  and 

calm  ! 
Through  rain,  cold,  hail,  and  thunder ;  now  nerve  each  gallant 

arm  ! 
What  though  their  shot  falls  round  us  here,  still  thicker  than  the 

hail! 
We'll  stand  against  them,  as  the  rock  stands  firm  against  the 

8ale- 
Lo  !  their  battery  is  silenced  now  :  our  iron  hail  still  showers : 

They  falter,  halt,  retreat !     Hurrah  !  the  glorious  day  is  ours  ! 

Now  charge  again,  Santa  Anna !  or  the  day  is  surely  lost ; 

For  back,  like  broken  waves,  along  our  left  your  hordes  are 

tossed. 
Still  louder  roar  two  batteries — his  strong  reserve  moves  on  ;  — 
More  work  is  there  before  you,  men,  ere  the  good  fight  is  won ; 
Now  for  your   wives  and  children  stand  !    steady,  my  braves, 

once  more  ! 
Now  for  your  lives,  your  honor,  fight  1    as  you   never  fought 

before. 

Ho  !  Hardin  breasts  it  bravely  !     McKee  and  Bissell  there 
Stand  firm  before  the  storm  of  balls  that  fills  th'  astonished  air. 
The  lancers  are  upon  them,  too  !  —  the  foe  swarms  ten  to  one  — 
Hardin  is  slain —  McKee  and  Clay  the  last  time  see  the  sun  ; 
And  many  another  gallant  heart,  in  that  last  desperate  fray, 
Grew  cold,  its  last  thoughts  turning  to  its  loved  ones  far  away. 

Still  sullenly  the  cannon  roared  — but  died  away  at  last, 
And  o'er  the  dead  and  dying  came  the  evening  shadows  fa»t. 


184  ROSS'S   SPEAKER. 

And  then  a.bove  the  mountains  rose  the  cold  moon's  silver  shield, 
And  pitiently  and  pityingly  looked  down  upon  the  field  ; 
And  careless  of  his  wounded,  and  neglectful  of  his  dead, 
Despairingly  and  sullen,  in  the  night,  Santa  Anna  fled 


Darkness.  —  Btbon. 

I  had  a  dream,  which  was  not  all  a  dream. 

The  bright  sun  was  extinguished,  and  the  stars 

Did  wander,  darkling,  in  the  eternal  space, 

Rayless,  and  pathless,  and  the  icy  earth 

Swung  blind,  and  blackening,  in  the  moonless  air , 

Morn  came,  and  went  —  and  came,  and  brought  no  day , 

And  men  forgot  their  passions,  in  the  dread 

Cf  this  their  desolation ;  and  all  hearts 

Were  chilled  into  a  selfish  prayer  for  light. 

Some  lay  down, 
And  hid  their  eyes,  and  wept ;  and  some  did  rest 
Their  chins  upon  their  clinched  hands,  and  smiled  , 
And  others  hurried  to  and  fro,  and  fed 
Their  funeral  piles  with  fuel,  and  looked  up, 
With  mad  disquietude,  on  the  dull  sky, 
The  pall  of  a  past  world  ;  and  then  again, 
With  curses,  cast  them  down  upon  the  dust, 
And  gnashed  their  teeth,  and  howled.     The  wild  birds  shrieked 
And,  terrified,  did  flutter  on  the  ground, 
And  flap  their  useless  wings  :  the  wildest  brutes 
Came  tame,  and  tremulous ;  and  vipers  crawled 
And  twined  themselves  among  the  multitude, 
Hissing,  but  stingless  —  they  were  slain  for  food. 
The  meager  by  the  meager  were  devoured  ; 
Even  dogs  assailed  their  masters  —  all  save  one, 
And  he  was  faithful  to  a  corse,  and  kept 
The  birds,  and  beasts,  and  famished  men  at  bay, 
Till  hunger  clung  them,  or  the  dropping  dead 
Lured  their  lank  jaws  ;  himself  sought  out  no  food. 
But,  with  a  piteous  and  perpetual  moan, 
And  a  quick,  desolate  cry,  licking  the  hand 
Which  answered  not  with  a  caress  —  he  died. 

The  crowd  was  famished  by  degrees  ;  but  two 
Of  an  enormous  city  did  survive, 


SOLITUDE.  185 

And  they  were  enemies  ;  they  met  beside 
The  dying  embers  of  an  altar-place, 
Where  had  been  heaped  a  mass  of  holy  things, 
For  an  unholy  usage  :  they  raked  up, 
And,  shivering,  scraped,  with  their  cold,  skeleton  hands, 
The  feeble  ashes,  and  their  feeble  breath 
Blew  for  a  little  life,  and  made  a  flame, 
Which  was  a  mockery  :  then  they  lifted 
Their  eyes,  as  it  grew  lighter,  and  beheld 
Each  other's  aspects  ;  saw,  and  shrieked,  and  died. 
Even  of  their  mutual  hideousness  they  died, 
Unknowing  who  he  was  upon  whose  brow 
Famine  had  written  fiend.     The  world  was  void  ; 
The  populous  and  the  powerful  was  a  lump  — 
Seasonless,  herbless,  treeless,  manless,  lifeless  ; 
A  lump  of  death  —  a  chaos  of  hard  clay. 
The  rivers,  lakes,  and  ocean,  all  stood  still, 
And  nothing  stirred  within  their  silent  depths  : 
Ships,  sailorless,  lay  rotting  on  the  sea, 
And  their  masts  fell  down  piecemeal  ;  as  they  dropped, 
They  slept,  on  the  abyss,  without  a  surge  : 
The  waves  were  dead  ;  the  tides  were  in  their  gravo  ; 
The  moon,  their  mistress,  had  expired  before  ; 
The  winds  were  withered  in  the  stagnant  air, 
And  the  clouds  perished  :  darkness  had  no  need 
Of  aid  from  them  ;  she  was  the  universe. 


Solitude.  —  Byron. 

To  sit  on  rocks,  to  muse  o'er  flood  and  fell, 
To  slowly  trace  the  forest's  shady  scene. 
Where  things  that  own  not  man's  dominion  dwell, 
And  mortal  foot  hath  ne'er,  or  rarely  been ; 
To  climb  the  trackless  mountaSi  all  unseen, 
With  the  wild  flock,  thai  never  needs  a  fold  ; 
Alone,  o'er  steeps  and  foaming  folds  to  lean  ;  — 
This  is  not  solitude ;  'tis  but  to  hold 
Converse  with  Nature's  charms,  and  view  her  stores  unrolled. 

But,  'midst  the  crowd,  the  hum,  the  shock  of  men, 
To  hear,  to  see,  to  feel,  and  *.<>  possess, 
^d  roam  along,  the  world's  tired  denizen, 


186  BOSS'S   SPEAKER. 

With  none  who  hless  us,  none  whom  we  can  bless , 
Minions  of  splendor,  shrinking  from  distress ; 
None,  that,  with  kindred  consciousness  endued, 
If  we  were  not,  would  seem  to  smile  the  less, 
Of  all  that  flattered,  followed,  sought,  and  sued  ;  — 
This  is  to  he  alone  ;  this,  this  is  solitude. 


Disappointed  Ambition.  —  Johnson. 

In  full-blown  dignity  see  Wolsey  stand, 

Law  in  his  voice  and  fortune  in  his  hand  ; 

To  him  the  church,  the  realm,  their  powers  consign  , 

Through  him  the  rays  of  regal  bounty  shine  ; 

Turned  by  his  nod,  the  stream  of  honor  flows  ; 

His  smile  alone  security  bestows. 

Still  to  new  heights  his  restless  wishes  tower ; 

Claim  leads  to  claim,  and  power  advances  power ; 

Till  conquest,  unresisted,  ceased  to  please, 

And  rights  submitted  left  him  none  to  seize. 

At  length  his  sovereign  frowns  ;  the  train  of  state 

Mark  the  keen  glance,  and  watch  the  sign  to  hate. 

Where'er  he  turns,  he  meets  a  stranger's  eye ; 

His  suppliants  scorn  him,  and  his  followers  fly. 

How  drops  at  once  the  pride  of  awful  state, 

The  golden  canopy,  the  glittering  plate, 

The  regal  palace,  the  luxurious  board, 

The  liveried  army,  and  the  menial  lord  ! 

With  age,  with  cares,  with  maladies  oppressed, 

He  seeks  the  refuge  of  monastic  rest. 

Grief  aids  disease,  remembered  folly  stings, 

And  his  last  sighs  reproach  the  faith  of  kings. 


The  Little  Philosopher.  —  Day 

Mr.  L.    (Looking   at    the    boy,    and    admiring   his   ruddy 
cheerful  countenance.)     I  thank  you,  my  good  lad  :  you  have 
caught  my  horse  very  cleverly.     What  shall  I  give  you  for  youi 
trouble  ?     (Putting  his  hand  into  his  pocket.) 

Boy.     I  want  nothing,  sir. 

Mr.  L.     Don't  you  ?     So  much  the  better  for  you.     Few  meii 


THE   LITTLE   PHILOSOPHER.  187 

can  say  as  much.  But  pray  what  were  you  doing  in  the 
field  ? 

B.  I  was  rooting  up  weeds,  and  tending  the  sheep  that  are 
feeding  on  the  turnips,  and  keeping  the  crows  from  the  corn. 

Mr.  L.     And  do  you  like  this  employment  ? 

B.     Yes,  sir,  very  well,  this  fine  weather. 

Mr.  L.     But  had  you  not  rather  play  ? 

B.     This  is  not  hard  work  ;  it  is  almost  as  good  as  play. 

Mr.  L.     Who  sent  you  to  work  ? 

B.      My  father,  sir. 

Mr.  L.     Where  does  he  live  ? 

B.     Just  by,  among  the  trees,  there,  sir. 

Mr.  L.     What  is  his  name  ? 

B.     Thomas  Hurdle,  sir. 

Mr.  L.     And  what  is  yours  ? 

B.     Peter,  sir. 

Mr.  L.     How  old  are  you  ? 

B.     I  shall  be  eight  at  Michaelmas. 

Mr.  L.     How  long  have  you  been  out  in  this  field  ? 

B.     Ever  since  six  in  the  morning,  sir. 

Mr.  L.     And  are  you  not  hungry  ? 

B.     Yes,  sir  ;  I  shall  go  to  my  dinner  soon. 

Mr.  L.     If  you  had  sixpence  now,  what  would  you  do  with  it  ? 

B.     I  don't  know  ;  I  never  had  so  much  in  my  life. 

Mr.  L.     Have  you  no  playthings  ? 

/>.     Playthings  !  what  are  they  ? 

Mr  L.  Such  as  balls,  ninepins,  marbles,  tops,  and  wooden 
horses. 

B.  No,  sir  ;  but  our  Tom  makes  footballs  to  kick  in  colci 
weather,  and  we  set  traps  for  birds  ;  and  then  I  have  a  jumping 
pole,  and  a  pair  of  stilts  to  walk  through  the  dirt  with  ;  and  I  had 
a  hoop,  but  it  is  broken. 

Mr.  L.     And  do  you  want  nothing  else  ? 

B.  No,  sir  ;  I  have  hardly  time  for  those  ;  for  I  always  ride 
the  horses  to  the  field,  and  bring  up  the  cows,  and  run  to  the 
town  on  errands ;  and  these  are  as  good  as  play,  you  know. 

Mr.  L.  Well,  but  you  could  buy  apples  or  gingerbread  at 
tlip  town,  I  suppose,  if  you  had  money. 

H.  O,  I  can  get  apples  at  home  !  and  as  for  gingerbread,  I 
don't  mind  it  much,  for  my  mother  gives  me  a  piece  of  pie 
now  and  then,  and  that  is  as  good. 

Mr.  L.     Would  you  not  like  a  knife  to  cut  sticks? 

B.     I  have  one  —  here  it  is  —  brother  Tom  gave  it  me. 

Mr.  L.  Your  shoes  are  full  of  holes  —  don't  you  want  u 
better  pair  ? 


[88  ROSS'S   SPEAKER. 

B.     1  have  a  better  pair  for  Sundays. 

Mr.  L.     But  these  let  in  water. 

B.     I  don't  care  for  that ;  they  let  it  out  again. 

Mr.  L.     Your  hat  is  all  torn,  too. 

B.  I  have  a  better  hat  at  home  ;  but  I  had  as  lief  have  none 
at  all,  for  it  hurts  my  head. 

Mr.  L.     What  do  you  do  when  it  rains  ? 

B.     If  it  rains  very  hard,  I  get  under  the  hedge  till  it  is  over. 

Mr.  L.  What  do  you  do  when  you  are  hungry  before  it  is 
time  to  go  home  ? 

B.     I  sometimes  eat  a  raw  turnip. 

Mr.  L.     But  if  there  are  none  ? 

B.  Then  I  do  as  well  as  I  can ;  I  work  on,  and  never 
think  of  it. 

Mr.  L.     Are  you  not  dry,  sometimes,  this  hot  weather  ? 

B.     Yes,  sir  ;  but  there  is  water  enough. 

Mr.  L.     Why,  my  little  fellow,  you  are  quite  a  philosopher. 

B.     Sir  ? 

Mr.  L.  I  say  you  are  a  philosopher ;  but  I  am  sure  you  do 
not  know  what  that  means. 

B.     No,  sir  —  no  harm,  I  hope. 

Mr.  L.  No,  no.  Well,  my  boy,  you  seem  to  want  nothing 
«.t  all  ;  so  I  shall  not  give  you  money,  to  make  you  want  any 
thing.     But  were  you  ever  at  school  ? 

B.     No,  sir  ;  but  father  says  I  shall  go,  after  harvest. 

Mr.  L.     You  will  want  books  then. 

B.  Yes,  sir  ;  the  boys  have  all  a  spelling  book  and  a  Tes- 
tament. 

Mr.  L.  Well,  then,  I  will  give  you  them  —  tell  your  father 
so,  and  that  it  is  because  I  thought  you  a  very  good,  contented 
boy.  —  So  now  go  to  your  sheep  again 

B.     I  will,  sir.     Thank  you. 

Mr.  L.     Good  by,  Peter. 

B.     Good  by,  sir. 


Patience  essential  to  Success. 

Da.  Talmadge,  President  of  Oglethorpe  University, 

"  A  masterlv"  inactivity"  was  the  motto  of  one  of  that  illus- 
trious trio  of  sages  who  have  gone  down  to  the  grave  amid  a 
nation's  tears,  and  whose  loss  to  the  nation  seems  like  leaving 
the  people  orphan?  —  like  blotting  out  the  luminary  of  day  fron 


PATIENCE   ESSENTIAL   TO   SUCCESS.  189 

the  heavens  —  like  taking  the  weather-beaten  pilot  from  the 
helm,  and  surrendering  the  rudder  to  the  hands  of  inexperienced 
boys. 

In  this  age  of  fevered  excitement,  and  in  this  nation,  whsoe 
position  and  institutions  have  communicated  so  fearful  a  mo- 
mentum to  political  action,  we  are  in  danger,  in  our  hot  haste 
and  our  spirit  of  self-glorification,  of  forgetting  our  dependence 
on  God,  and  of  bidding  defiance,  in  every  department  of  life,  to 
all  the  laws  of  solid  progress.         *         *         * 

Among  the  proverbs  which  experience  and  age  have  em- 
bodied, is  the  common  and  trite  one,  "  The  more  hurry  the  less 
speed."  The  engineer,  although  the  road  be  well  graded,  does 
not  undertake  to  run  the  locomotive  until  the  superstructure  is 
laid.  But  in  real  life  many  a  man  attempts  to  run  without  grade 
or  superstructure,  and  it  requires  no  oracle  to  say  that  he  will 
make  poor  headway. 

Let  me  present  a  scene  which  I  wish  were  always  fancy, 
but  which  I  am  sorry  to  say  is  enacted  not  unfrequently.  Of 
two  youths  about  prepared  to  enter  the  Freshman  Class  cf  a 
college,  one  takes  his  proper  place  ;  the  other,  at  the  earnest 
entreaty  of  an  injudicious  father,  and  by  the  pliancy  of  a  yield- 
ing Faculty,  enters  the  Sophomore  Class.  The  latter,  with 
some  rare  and  happy  exceptions,  if  he  is  able  at  all  to  retain  his 
position,  is  found  to  graduate  in  three  years  at  the  bottom  of  his 
class ;  and  you  shall  never  more  hear  of  him  unless  you  go  to 
within  a  few  miles  of  his  residence.  The  former  in  four  years 
graduates,  with  honor,  among  the  leaders  of  his  class,  and  is 
soon  fifty  years  ahead  of  the  other  in  usefulness  and  fame 
Here  a  year's  time  seemed  to  be  gained  at  the  start,  but  the  gain 
proved  in  the  end  to  be  a  dead  loss.         *         *         * 

Who  are  those  orators  with  so  facile  a  manner — so  easy  a 
flow  of  words  —  so  copious  a  torrent  of  thoughts  —  and  with 
such  profound  philosophy,  clothed  in  illustrations  so  rich,  gath- 
ered from  nature  and  from  every  science  and  art  —  enchaininii 
yonder  Senate  chamber,  and  fascinating  yonder  bar,  and  from 
the  pulpit  wringing  tears  of  sorrow  and  of  joy  alternately  from 
the  eyes  of  the  enraptured  audience  ?  They  are  Chatham,  and 
Grattan,  and  Curran,  and  Calhoun,  and  Clay,  and  Webster,  and 
Massillon,  and  Chalmers,  and  Robert  Hall.  And  what  writer  is 
that  who  plays  upon  the  English  language  as  upon  a  harp,  and 
who  evokes  iho  sweetesl  music  in  the  utterance  of  the  richest 
thoughts  and  the  profoundesl  philosophy  ?  That  is  Edmund 
Burke,  the  philosophic  statesman. 

To  all  these  men  thought  and  language  seemed  playthings,  tc 

1 


190  ROSS'S   SPEAKER. 


be  uttered  in  mere  wantonness  and  sport.  But  they  gained  their 
envied  achievements  by  industry  and  toil.  They  were  all  men 
of  severe  and  patient  thought  and  laborious  study. 


The  Consular  System  of  the  United  States. 

John  Pebkins,  Jr.,  of  Louisiana, 

Mr.  Speaker  :  It  is  utterly  useless,  under  our  existing  system., 
to  request  of  the  committee  on  foreign  affairs  an  opinion  upon 
the  legality  of  any  claim  that  is  preferred  against  the  govern- 
ment by  one  in  the  foreign  service.  There  is  no  law  to  guide 
its  decisions,  and  almost  every  claim  depends  upon  precedent  or 
the  discretion  of  the  secretary  of  state.  These  claims  are 
multiplying  with  each  year,  and  they  will  continue  to  multiply  to 
a  fearful  extent  unless  there  is  some  positive  law  defining  the 
duties  to  be  discharged,  and  fixing  their  proper  remuneration. 
Last  session  about  thirty  thousand  dollars  were  expended  in  meet- 
ing these  demands.  They  come  into  the  House  without  explana- 
tion ;  get  attached  to  our  general  appropriation  bills,  no  one 
knows  how  ;  and  pass,  no  one  knows  why  ;  running  up  our  ag 
gregate  expenditures,  each  one  becoming  a  precedent,  prolific 
of  similar  demands  in  the  future.  This  should  not  be.  It  is  a 
great  abuse.  It  reflects  discredit  upon  those  in  the  foreign 
service,  subjects  them  to  personal  humiliation,  and  is  entirely 
opposed  to  the  genius  of  our  institutions. 

In  all  that  I  have  said  1  have  avoided  reference  either  to  party 
or  to  individuals.  This  is  a  national  reform,  equally  affecting 
every  portion  of  the  country;  and,  until  it  is  accomplished,  good 
men  of  all  parties  engaged  in  the  foreign  service  will  participate 
alike  in  the  popular  prejudice  that  now  exists,  created  by  the 
abuses  of  a  defective  system.  I  have  also  avoided  any  refer- 
ence to  the  foreign  policy  of  our  government,  either  in  the  past 
or  present.  Its  discussion  has  nothing  to  do  with  the  reforms  of 
this  bill.  Although  embarrassed  by  jealousies  in  our  early  rela- 
tions with  foreign  powers,  we  have  found,  in  our  remoteness 
from  the  conflicts  of  Europe,  and  our  geographical  position  at 
the  head  of  a  great  continent,  advantages  which,  with  the  cau- 
tious maxims  of  Washington,  are  destined,  beyond  doubt,  to 
make  us  the  commercial  and  political  center  of  the  world. 

In  sixty-five  years  we  have  grown  from  a  few  comparatively 
feeble  settlements  into  a  great  empire.  Civilization  has,  within 
this  period,  poured  its  light  into  our  great  central  valley,  ano 


AMERICAN   LITERATURE.  191 

forests  have  disappeared  ;  cities  sprung  up,  and  a  magnificent 
landscape  every  where  spread  itself  out,  beautiful  in  the  results 
of  religion  and  law.  In  this  it  may  be  questioned  whether  the 
internal  or  foreign  policy  of  the  government  has  had  the  mosi 
influence. 

The  extension  of  our  territory,  the  rapid  development  of  our 
wealth,  the  opening  of  new  and  the  increase  of  old  sources  of 
foreign  trade,  and  the  participation  in  it  of  the  capital  and  prod- 
ucts of  all  sections  of  the  Union,  have  caused  to  sympathize 
nearly  every  domestic  interest  with  foreign  affairs.  It  is  no 
exaggeration  to  say  that  there  is  not  an  acre  of  corn  or  cotton 
grown  in  the  west  or  south,  not  an  American  vessel  in  any  port 
in  the  world  insured,  not  a  loan  made,  nor  a  note  discounted  at 
any  of  our  banks,  which  is  not  affected  in  its  value,  or  in  some 
way  acted  upon,  and  made  a  vibration  of  the  great  political  and 
financial  movements  of  the  rest  of  the  world.  The  fact  that 
these  domestic  interests,  which  thus,  like  nerves,  spread  all  over 
the  globe,  connect  remote  localities  with  interior  points  of  our 
own  country,  can  not  be  protected  by  our  own  legislation,  but 
depend  upon  treaties  and  the  regard  of  the  other  powers  of  the 
earth  for  certain  great  principles  of  international  law,  makes  the 
perfecting  of  the  agency,  through  which  we  communicate  with 
the  rest  of  the  world,  a  matter  of  great  practical  importance. 

A  distinguished  statesman  of  England,  speaking  on  this  sub- 
ject, has  called  ministers  and  consuls  "  the  ears,  eyes,  and 
mouths  of  a  government,  by  which  it  hears,  sees,  and  communi- 
cates with  the  rest  of  the  world."  The  object  of  this  bill  is  to 
make  these  organs  of  communication  respond  more  distinctly  to 
the  purpose  of  their  creation.  It  is  time  that  something  was 
done  to  reform  existing  abuses.  Our  interests  at  home  and 
abroad  demand  it.  The  honor  of  the  country  requires  it.  The 
occasion  is  a  fit  one. 


American  Literature.  —  gkimxb. 

We  can  not  honor  our  country  with  too  deep  a  reverence  ;  we 
can  not  love  her  with  an  affection  too  pure  and  fervent ;  we  can 
not  serve  her  with  an  energy  of  purpose,  or  a  faithfulness  of  zeal, 
too  stedfast  and  ardent.  And  what  is  our  country  ?  It  is  not 
the  East,  with  her  hills  and  her  valleys,  with  her  countless  sails, 
and  the  rocky  ramparts  of  her  shores.  It  is  not  the  North,  with 
her  thousand  villages,  and  put  harvest   horn.-,  with  her  frontiers 


192  ROSS'S   SPEAKER. 

of  the  lake  and  the  ocean.  It  is  not  the  West,  with  her  forest 
^ea.  and  her  inlanu  isles,  with  her  luxuriant  expanses,  clothed  in 
the  verdant  corn,  with  her  beautiful  Ohio,  and  her  majestic  Mis- 
souri. Nor  is  it  yet  the  South,  opulent  in  the  mimic  snow  of  the 
cotton,  in  the  rich  plantations  of  the  rustling  cane,  and  in  the 
golden  robes  of  the  rice  field.  What  are  these  but  the  sister 
families  of  one  greater,  better,  holier  family  —  our  country  ? 

If,  indeed,  we  desire  to  behold  a  literature  like  that  which 
has  sculptured,  with  such  energy  of  expression,  which  has 
painted  so  faithfully  and  vividly,  the  crimes,  the  vices,  the  follies 
of  ancient  and  modern  Europe  :  if  we  desire  that  our  land  should 
furnish  for  the  orator  and  the  novelist,  for  the  painter  and  the 
poet,  age  after  age,  the  wild  and  romantic  scenery  of  war  ;  the 
glittering  march  of  armies,  and  the  revelry  of  the  camp ;  the 
shrieks  and  blasphemies,  and  all  the  horrors  of  the  battle  field  ; 
the  desolation  of  the  harvest,  and  th  burning  cottage  ;  the 
storm,  the  sack,  and  the  ruin  of  cities  :  if  we  desire  to  unchain 
the  furious  passions  of  jealousy  and  selfishness,  of  hatred,  re- 
venge, and  ambition,  those  lions  that  now  sleep  harmless  in  their 
Jen  :  if  we  desire  that  the  lake,  the  river,  the  ocean,  should 
blush  with  the  blood  of  brothers  ;  that  the  winds  should  waft 
from  the  land  to  the  sea,  from  the  sea  to  the  land,  the  roar  and 
the  smoke  of  battle  ;  that  the  very  mountain  tops  should  become 
altars  for  the  sacrifice  of  brothers,  —  if  we  desire  that  these,  and 
such  as  these  —  the  elements,  to  an  incredible  extent,  of  the 
literature  of  the  old  world  —  should  be  the  elements  of  our 
literature,  then,  but  then  only,  let  us  hurl  from  its  pedestal  the 
majestic  statue  of  our  Union  and  scatter  its  fragments  over  all 
our  land. 

But,  if  we  covet  tor  our  country  tne  noblest,  purest,  loveliest 
literature  the  world  has  ever  seen,  such  a  literature  as  shall 
honor  God  and  bless  mankind,  a  literature  whose  smiles  might 
play  upon  an  angel's  face,  whose  "  tears  would  not  stain  an 
angel's  cheek,"  then  let  us  cling  to  the  union  of  these  states 
with  a  patriot's  love,  with  a  scholar's  enthusiasm,  with  a  Chris- 
tian's hope.  In  her  heavenly  character,  as  a  holocaust  self- 
sacrificed  to  God  ;  at  the  height  of  her  glory,  as  the  ornament 
of  a  free,  educated,  peaceful,  Christian  people,  American  litera- 
ture will  find  that  the  intellectual  spirit  is  her  very  tree  of  life 
aid  that  union  her  garden  of  paradise. 


PREDICTIONS    OF    DISUNION.  193 

Predictions  of  Disunion.  -  Wm.  PiNKNSi, 


Sir,  the  people  of  the  United  States,  if  I  do  not  wholly  mis. 
take  their  character,  are  wise  as  well  as  virtuous.  They  know 
the  value  of  that  federal  association,  which  is  to  them  the  single 
pledge  and  guarantee  of  power  and  peace.  Their  warm  and 
pious  affections  will  cling  to  it,  as  to  their  only  hope  of  prosperity 
and  happiness,  in  defiance  of  pernicious  abstractions,  by  whom- 
soever inculcated,  or  howsoever  seductive  and  alluring  in  their 
aspect.  Sir,  it  is  not  an  occasion  like  this, — although  con- 
nected, as,  contrary  to  all  reasonable  expectation,  it  has  been, 
with  fearful  and  disorganizing  theories,  which  would  make  our 
estimates,  whether  fanciful  or  sound,  of  natural  law  the  measure 
of  civil  rights  and  political  sovereignty  in  the  social  state,  —  it  is 
not,  I  say,  an  occasion  like  this  that  can  harm  the  Union.  It 
must,  indeed,  be  a  mighty  storm  that  can  push  from  its  moorings 
this  sacred  ark  of  the  common  safety.  It  is  not  every  trifling 
breeze,  however  it  may  be  made  to  sob  and  howl  in  imitation 
of  the  tempest,  by  the  auxiliary  breath  of  the  ambitious,  the 
timid,  or  the  discontented,  that  can  drive  this  gallant  vessel, 
freighted  with  every  thing  that  is  dear  to  an  American  bosom, 
upon  the  rocks,  or  lay  it  a  sheer  hulk  upon  the  ocean. 

I  may,  perhaps,  mistake  the  flattering  suggestions  of  hope  (the 
greatest  of  all  flatterers,  as  we  are  told)  for  the  conclusions  of 
sober  reason.  Yet  it  is  a  pleasing  error,  if  it  be  an  error,  and 
no  man  shall  take  it  from  me.  I  will  continue  to  cherish  the 
belief,  —  ay,  sir,  in  defiance  of  the  public  patronage  given  to 
deadly  speculations,  which,  invoking  the  name  of  Deity  to  aid 
their  faculties  for  mischief,  strike  at  all  establishments,  —  I  will 
continue  to  cherish  the  belief  that  the  Union  of  these  states  is 
formed  to  hear  up  against  far  greater  shocks  than,  through  all 
vicissitudes,  it  is  ever  likely  to  encounter.  I  will  continue  to 
cherish  the  belief  that,  although,  like  all  other  human  institutions, 
it  may  for  a  season  be  disturbed,  or  suffer  momentary  eclipse  by 
the  transit  across  its  disk  of  some  malignant  planet,  it  possesses 
a  recuperative  force,  a  redeeming  energy,  in  the  hearts  of  the 
people,  that  will  soon  restore  it  to  its  wonted  calm,  and  give  it 
back  its  accustomed  splendor.  On  such  a  subject  I  will  discard 
all  hysterical  apprehensions;  I  will  deal  in  no  sinister  auguries, 
I  will  indulge  in  no  hypochondriacal  forebodings.  I  will  look 
forward  to  the  future  with  gay  and  cheerful  hope,  and  will  make 
the  prospect  smile,  in  fancy  at  least,  until  overwhelming  reality 
shall  render  :t  no  longer  possible. 
13 


194  ROSS'S   SPEAKER. 


Value  of  Knowledge.  —  h.  l.  Pincknby. 

What  is  it  that  unfolds  the  structure  of  the  human  frame 
showing,  indeed,  how  fearfully  and  wonderfully  it  is  made,  01 
has  invested  Surgery  with  the  admirable  precision  and  dexterity 
which  it  now  exhibits,  or  that  enables  Medicine  to  conquer  all 
the  maladies  to  which  mankind  is  subject,  those  plagues  and 
pestilences  alone  excepted  which  seem  destined  by  Providence 
to  perform  the  office  of  special  judgments,  and  to  remain  incura- 
ble scourges  of  the  human  race  ?  What  is  it  that  disarms  the 
lightning  of  its  power,  elevates  valleys  and  depresses  hills, 
cleaves  the  ocean,  and  ascends  the  sky  ?  What  is  it  that  we  be- 
hold in  every  elegant  and  useful  art,  in  the  diversified  hues  that 
attract  the  eye,  in  the  dresses  and  decorations  of  our  persons  and 
our  houses,  in  every  implement  of  husbandry  or  war,  in  the  sub- 
terraneous aqueduct,  or  the  heaven-kissing  monument,  in  the 
animated  canvas,  or  speaking  marble  ?  What  are  all  these  but 
the  varied  triumphs  of  the  human  mind  ? 

And  who  can  estimate  their  value  ?  To  say  nothing  of  that 
absolute  state  of  barbarism,  "  when  wild  in  woods  the  noble 
savage  ran,"  who  can  measure  the  difference  between  the 
splendid  illumination  of  the  nineteenth  century  and  that  glim- 
mering condition  of  society  ;  when  astrology  assumed  to  regulate 
events,  and  alchymy  to  transmute  all  other  metals  into  gold  ; 
when  ignorance  was  affrighted  by  an  ignis  fatuus,  and  comets 
and  meteors  were  regarded  as  the  immediate  precursors  of  the 
dissolution  of  the  world ;  when  science  was  considered  synony- 
mous with  magic,  and  punished  as  the  evidence  of  atrocious 
crimes  ;  when  superstition  occupied  the  seat  of  justice,  and  guilt 
or  innocence  was  established  by  the  righteous  decisions  of  fire  or 
water,  or  the  infallible  ordeal  of  military  prowess  ?  Science  is, 
indeed,  to  the  moral,  what  the  great  orb  of  day  is  to  the  natural 
world  ;  and  as  the  extinction  of  the  latter  would  necessarily  be 
followed  by  universal  darkness  and  decay,  so,  were  art  and  sci- 
ence lost,  society  would  inevitably  relapse  into  the  savagism  from 
which  it  is  their  proud  boast  to  have  elevated  and  redeemed  it 


Patriotism.  —  H.  L.  Pincknby. 

The  American  constitution  is,  in  fact,  the  political  luminary 
of  the  world ;  and  he  who  would  extinguish  its  sacred  hght,  is 
not  only  a  traitor  to  American  liberty,  but  justly  deserves  to  be 


KNOWLEDGE   WITHOUT   RELIGION.  195 

egarded  as  an  enemy  to  the  human  race.     Patriotism,  there 
fore,  requires  you  to  cultivate  an  ardent  and  abiding  attachment 
to  that  constitution  as  the  bond  of  our  political  union. 

This  is  the  ark  of  our  political  salvation,  the  citadel  from 
which  the  light  of  liberty  shines  and  its  inspiring  banner  waves, 
that  sacred  light,  at  which  mourning  humanity  may  relume  its 
hopes,  that  banner  which  proudly  proclaims  that  there  is  still 
one  republic  in  the  world,  one  land  where  man  walks  erect  in 
all  the  dignity  of  his  nature,  and  where  the  oppressed  of  other 
nations  may  happily  exchange  the  miseries  of  despotism  for  the 
inestimable  fruition  of  the  rights  of  man. 

And  who  would  overthrow  it  if  he  could  ?  Who  is  he  that 
would  rise  on  the  ruins  of  his  country,  or  that  desires  to  see  the 
American  capitol  rocking  on  its  base,  and  the  proud  emblem  of 
freedom  torn  from  its  walls,  and  this  glorious  confederacy  broken 
into  fragments,  and  the  sun  of  liberty  extinguished  in  fraternal 
blood,  and  the  whole  world  enveloped  in  the  deep  and  intermina- 
ble darkness  of  political  death  ? 

If  there  be  an  American,  so  utterly  unworthy  of  the  name, 
let  me  tell  him,  for  his  consolation,  that  his  parricidal  aspiration 
never  can  be  gratified.  The  American  confederacy  can  never 
be  dissolved,  never,  whilst  the  people  retain  a  recollection  of 
their  common  sufferings  and  glories,  or  are  actuated  by  the 
principles  of  the  revolution,  or  whilst  reason  is  left  free  to  com- 
bat error,  and  popular  education  is  promoted,  and  that  great 
engine,  the  press,  remains  untrammeled,  and  men  dare  to  think, 
and  speak,  and  act  like  freemen. 

"  I  love  thee  ;  next  to  heaven  above, 
Land  of  my  fathers  —  thee  I  love ; 
And  rail  thy  slanderers  as  they  will, 
With  all  thy  faults,  I  love  thee  8tUL" 


Knowledge  without  Religion.  —  u.  L.  Pinoknby. 

But  what  is  knowledge  without  religion  ?  Of  what  avail  will  it 
be,  that  thou  make  the  voyage  of  life  with  favoring  currents 
and  propitious  gales,  if  it  only  bring  you  at  last  to  an  undone 
eternity  ?  Of  what  avail  will  be  all  the  honors  and  enjoyments 
of  this  transitory  scene,  if  they  are  destined  to  terminate  in  that 
unending  misery  which  no  eloquence  can  soothe,  no  learning 
alleviate,  no  applause  divert?  What  then!  Are  you  fond  of 
roaming  in  the  fair  Gelds  <>('  literature,  and  can  you  not  be  per- 


196  ROSS'S?   SPEAKER. 

Atutded  to  cultivate  the  sacred  as  well  as  the  profane  ?  Is  there 
no  flowery  height  but  Helicon,  no  golden  stream  but  Hermus  ? 
Is  there  no  virtue  but  in  the  dreams  of  Plato,  no  immortality  bu1 
in  the  hopes  of  Socrates,  no  heaven  but  Elysium  ?  Have  you 
no  desire  to  explore  the  exquisite  beauties  of  Lebanon  or  Carmel, 
or  to  drink  of  the  pure  water  of  "  Siloa's  brook,  that  flows  fast 
by  the  oracles  of  God  "  ?  Is  there  nothing  in  the  Bible  that  can 
enlarge  your  understandings,  elevate  your  imaginations,  or  refine 
your  tastes  ?  Has  it  no  sublimity  of  conception,  no  richness  of 
imagery,  no  power  of  description  ?  Has  it  nothing  useful  in 
ethics,  or  valuable  in  philosophy  —  nothing  instructive  as  a  history, 
or  interesting  as  a  system  of  religion  —  nothing  elevated  in  its, 
poetry,  or  affecting  in  its  incidents,  or  important  in  its  moral  ? 

Have  you  determined  to  know  no  God,  except  he  be  found 
in  the  ancient  mythology  —  no  religion,  unless  it  has  been 
proved  fabulous  —  no  morality,  unless  it  be  notoriously  defective 
as  to  the  true  springs  of  virtue  and  the  true  principles  of  duty  ? 
Are  you  only  solicitous  for  the  esteem  of  men,  and  utterly  re- 
gardless of  the  opinion  of  your  Maker,  anxious  to  obtain  earthly 
fame  and  wisdom,  but  caring  nothing  for  "  that  honor  which 
cometh  from  on  high,"  or  for  that  knowledge  which  alone  can 
"  make  you  wise  unto  salvation  "  ?  Can  this  be  so  ?  Was  it 
for  this  that  you  were  educated  here,  and  that  you  intend  tc 
prosecute  the  improvement  of  your  minds  ?  Is  it  indeed  the 
only  object  of  your  future  lives,  so  to  acquire  every  thing  useful 
and  beautiful,  except  religion,  that  you  may  be  decorated  like 
victims  for  the  sacrifice,  and  sink  forever,  like  a  richly-freighted 
bark,  to  the  fathomless  abyss  of  eternal  woe  ?  Bear  with  me  for 
a  moment !  Are  you  reveling  in  youthful  vigor,  and  know  you 
not  that  the  domain  of  death  is  peopled  with  the  young  ? 

Do  you  anticipate  a  long  career  of  activity  and  usefulness, 
and  know  you  not  that  there  is  nothing  more  uncertain  than  the 
frail  tenure  of  human  existence  ?  Are  you  proud  of  your 
talents,  glowing  with  the  ardor  of  ambition,  and  longing  for 
distinction  in  the  race  of  life,  and  know  you  not  that  the  most 
buoyant  heart  may  soon  be  chilled  by  the  icy  touch  of  the 
destroyer,  and  the  most  eloquent  tongue  be  hushed  forever  in 
the  silent  tomb  ? 

"  Begin  —  be  bold,  and  venture  to  oe  wise  ; 
He  who  defers  this  work  from  day  to  day 
Does  on  a  river's  bank  expecting  stay, 
Till  the  whole  stream  that  stopped  him  shall  be  gone, 
Which  runs,  and,  as  it  runs,  forever  shall  run  on  ' 


THE  BEST  OF  CLASSICS.  19-, 


The  Best  of  Classics.  — Gum™. 

There  is  a  classic,  the  best  the  world  has  ever  seen,  the  noblest 
that  has  ever  honored  and  dignified  the  language  of  mortals.  If 
we  look  into  its  antiquity,  we  discover  a  title  to  our  veneration 
unrivaled  in.  the  history  of  literature.  If  we  have  respect  to  its 
evidences,  they  are  found  in  the  testimony  of  miracle  and  proph- 
ecy ;  in  the  ministry  of  man,  of  nature,  and  of  angels  ;  yea, 
even  of  "  God  manifest  in  the  flesh,"  of  "  God  blessed  forever." 
If  we  consider  its  authenticity,  no  other  pages  have  survived  the 
lapse  of  time  that  can  be  compared  with  it.  If  we  examine  its 
authority,  —  for  it  speaks  as  never  man  spake,  —  we  discover  that 
it  came  from  heaven,  in  vision  and  prophecy,  under  the  sanction 
of  Him  who  is  Creator  of  all  things,  and  the  Giver  of  every 
good  and  perfect  gift. 

If  we  reflect  on  its  truths,  they  are  lovely  and  spotless, 
sublime  and  holy,  as  God  himself,  unchangeable  as  his  nature, 
durable  as  his  righteous  dominion,  and  versatile  as  the  moral 
condition  of  mankind.  If  we  regard  the  value  of  its  treasures, 
we  must  estimate  them,  not  like  the  relics  of  classic  antiquity, 
by  the  perishable  glory  and  beauty,  virtue  and  happiness,  of  this 
world,  but  by  the  enduring  perfection  and  supreme  felicity  of  an 
eternal  kingdom.  If  we  inquire  who  are  the  men  that  have 
recorded  its  truths,  vindicated  its  rights,  and  illustrated  the  excel- 
lence of  its  scheme,  —  from  the  depth  of  ages  and  from  the  liv- 
ing world,  from  the  populous  continent  and  the  isles  of  the  sea, 
comes  forth  the  answer,  the  patriarch  and  the  prophet,  the 
evangelist  and  the  martyr. 

If  we  look  abroad  through  the  world  ol  men,  the  victims  of 
folly  or  vice,  the  prey  of  cruelty  or  injustice,  and  inquire  what 
are  its  benefits,  even  in  this  temporal  state,  the  great  and  the 
humble,  the  rich  and  the  poor,  the  powerful  and  the  weak,  the 
learned  and  the  ignorant  reply,  as  with  one  voice,  that  humility 
and  resignation,  purity,  order,  and  peace,  faith,  hope,  and  charity, 
are  its  blessings  upon  earth.  And  if,  raising  our  eyes  from  time 
to  eternity,  from  the  world  of  mortals  to  the  world  of  just  men 
made  perfect,  from  the  visible  crea  Jon,  marvelous,  beautiful,  and 
glorious  as  it  is,  to  the  invisible  creation  of  angels  and  seraphs, 
from  the  footstool  of  God  to  the  throne  of  God  himself,  we  ask 
what  are  the  blessings  that  flow  from  this  single  volume,  —  let  the 
question  be  answered  by  the  pen  of  the  evangelist,  the  harp  of 
the  prophet,  ami  the  records  of  the  book  of  life.  Such  is  the 
of  classics  1 1 1* r  world  has  ever  admired;  such,  the  noblest  that 
■wan  had  ever  adopted  as  a  guide. 


198  ROSS'S  SPEAKER. 


The  Family  Bible.  —  anox. 

How  painfully  pleasing  the  fond  recollection 

Of  youthful  connections  and  innocent  joy, 
When  blessed  with  parental  advice  and  affection, 

Surrounded  with  mercies,  with  peace  from  on  high  ! 
1  still  view  the  chair  of  my  sire  and  my  mother, 

The  seats  of  their  offspring  are  ranged  on  each  hand, 
And  that  richest  of  books,  which  excelled  every  other 

That  family  Bible  that  lay  on  the  stand  ; 
The  old-fashioned  Bible,  the  dear,  blessed  Bible, 

The  family  Bible,  that  lay  on  the  stand. 

That  Bible,  the  volume  of  God's  inspiration, 

At  morn  and  at  evening,  could  yield  us  delight, 
And  the  prayer  of  our  sire  was  a  sweet  invocation 

For  mercy  by  day  and  for  safety  through  night. 
Our  hymns  of  thanksgiving,  with  harmony  swelling, 

All  warm  from  the  heart  of  a  family  band, 
Half- raised  us  from  earth  to  that  rapturous  dwelling 

Described  in  the  Bible  that  lay  on  the  stand  ; 
That  richest  of  books,  which  excelled  every  other, 

The  family  Bible,  that  lay  on  the  stand. 

Ye  scenes  of  tranquillity,  long  have  we  parted  ; 

My  hopes  almost  gone,  and  my  parents  no  more  ; 
In  sorrow  and  sadness  I  live  broken-hearted, 

And  wander  unknown  on  a  far-distant  shore. 
Yet  how  can  I  doubt  a  dear  Savior's  protection, 

Forgetful  of  gifts  from  his  bountiful  hand  ! 
O,  let  me,  with  patience,  receive  his  correction, 

And  think  of  the  Bible  that  lay  on  the  stand ; 
That  richest  of  books,  which  excelled  every  other, 

That  family  Bible  that  lay  on  the  stand. 


Absalom.  —Willis. 

The  waters  slept.     Night's  silvery  vail  hung  low 
On  Jordan's  bosom,  and  the  eddies  curled 
Their  glossy  rings  beneath  it,  like  the  still, 
Unbroken  beating  of  the  sleeper's  pulse. 


ABSALOM.  19° 

The  reeds  bent  down  the  stream.     The  willow  leaves, 
With  a  soft  cheek  upon  the  lulling  tide, 
Forgot  the  lifting  winds  ;  and  the  long  stems, 
Whose  flowers  the  water,  like  a  gentle  nurse, 
Bears  on  its  bosom,  quietly  gave  way, 
And  leaned  in  graceful  attitudes  to  rest. 
How  strikingly  the  course  of  nature  tells, 
By  its  light  heed  of  human  suffering, 
That  it  was  fashioned  for  a  perfect  world ! 

King  David's  limbs  were  weary.     He  had  fled 

From  far  Jerusalem,  and  now  he  stood 

With  his  faint  people  for  a  little  rest 

Upon  the  shore  of  Jordan.     The  light  wind 

Of  morn  was  stirring,  and  he  bared  his  brow 

To  its  refreshing  breath  ;  for  he  had  worn 

The  mourner's  covering,  and  he  had  not  felt 

That  he  could  see  his  people  until  now. 

They  gathered  round  him  on  the  fresh,  green  bank, 

And  spoke  their  kindly  words ;  and  as  the  sun 

Rose  up  in  heaven,  he  knelt  among  them  there, 

And  bowed  his  head  upon  his  hands  to  pray. 

O,  when  the  heart  is  full,  when  bitter  thoughts 

Come  crowding  thickly  up  for  utterance, 

And  the  poor  common  words  of  courtesy 

Are  such  a  very  mockery,  how  much 

The  bursting  heart  may  pour  itself  in  prayer  ! 

He  prayed  for  Israel  ;  and  his  voice  went  up 

Strongly  and  fervently  ;  he  prayed  for  those 

Whose  love  had  been  his  shield  ;  and  his  deep  tone 

Grew  tremulous  ;  but  0,  for  Absalom  ! 

For  his  estranged,  misguided  Absalom  — 

The  proud,  bright  being  who  had  burst  away, 

In  all  his  princely  beauty,  to  defy 

The  heart  that  cherished  him — for  him  he  poured, 

In  agony  that  would  not  be  controlled, 

Strong  supplication,  and  forgave  him  there, 

Before  his  God,  for  his  deep  sinfulness. 

The  hosts  were  numbered.     At  Mahanaim's  gate 
Sat  David,  as  the  glittering  thousands  passed 
Forth  to  the  battle.     With  a  troubled  eye 
He  looked  upon  their  pomp,  and  as  the  helms 
Bent  low  before  him,  and  the  bannors  swayed 


200  ROSS"  13   SPEAKER. 

Like  burnished  wings  to  do  him  reverence. 
His  look  grew  restless,  and  he  did  not  wear 
The  lofty  sternness  of  a  monarch's  brow. 
The  leader  of  the  host  came  by.     His  form 
Was  like  a  son  of  Anak,  and  he  strode 
Majestically  on,  and  bore  his  crest 
As  men  were  waters,  and  his  frame  a  rock. 
The  king  rose  up  to  Joab,  and  came  near, 
As  his  tall  helm  was  bowed  ;  and  by  the  love 
He  bore  his  master,  he  besought  him  there 
That  he  would  spare  him  Absalom  alive. 
He  passed  with  his  stern  warriors  on  ;  the  trumj 
And  the  loud  cymbal  died  upon  the  ear ; 
And  as  the  king  turned  off  his  weary  gaze, 
The  last  faint  gleam  had  vanished,  and  the  wood 
Of  Ephraim  had  received  a  thousand  men, 
To  whom  its  pleasant  shadows  were  a  grave. 

The  pall  was  settled.     He  who  slept  beneath 

Was  straightened  for  the  grave  ;  and  as  the  folds 

Sunk  to  the  still  proportions,  they  betrayed 

The  matchless  symmetry  of  Absalom. 

His  hair  was  yet  unshorn,  and  silken  curls 

Were  floating  round  the  tassels  as  thoy  swayed 

To  the  admitted  air,  as  glossy  now 

As  when,  in  hours  of  gentle  dalliance,  bathing 

The  snowy  fingers  of  Judea's  girls. 

His  helm  was  at  his  feet ;  his  banner,  soiled 

With  trailing  through  Jerusalem,  was  laid 

Reversed  beside  him  ;  and  the  jeweled  hilt, 

Whose  diamonds  lit  the  passage  of  his  blade, 

Rested  like  mockery  on  his  covered  brow. 

The  soldiers  of  the  king  trod  to  and  fro, 

Clad  in  the  garb  of  battle,  and  their  chief, 

The  mighty  Joab,  stood  beside  his  bier, 

And  gazed  upon  the  dark  pall  stedfastly, 

As  if  he  feared  the  slumberer  might  stir. 

A  slow  step  startled  him.     He  grasped  his  blade 

As  if  a  trumpet  rang  ;  but  the  bent  form 

Of  David  entered,  and  he  gave  command 

In  a  low  tone  to  his  few  followers, 

And  left  him  with  his  dead.* 


HAMLET   AND    HORATIO.  201 


Hamlet  and  Horatio.  —  Shaksi-eabb 


Horatio.     Hail  to  your  lordship  ! 

Hamlet.     I  am  glad  to  see  you  well  :  (approaches.) 
Horatio,  —  or  I  do  forget  myself. 

Hor.     The  same,  my  lord,  and  your  poor  servant  ever. 

Ham.     Sir,  my  good  friend  ;  I'll  change  that  name  with  you. 
And  what  make  you  from  Wittenberg,  Horatio  ? 

Hor.     A  truant  disposition,  good  my  lord. 

Ham.     I  would  not  hear  your  enemy  say  so  ; 
Nor  shall  you  do  mine  ear  that  violence, 
To  make  it  truster  of  your  own  report 
Against  yourself:  I  know  you  are  no  truant. 
But  what  is  your  affair  in  Elsinore  ? 
We'll  teach  you  to  drink  deep  ere  you  depart. 

Hor.     My  lord,  I  came  to  see  your  father's  funeral. 

Ham.     I  pray  thee  do  not  mock  me,  fellow-student  : 
I  think  it  was  to  see  my  mother's  wedding. 

Hor.     Indeed,  my  lord,  it  followed  hard  upon. 

flam.     Thrift,  thrift,  Horatio  !  the  funeral  baked  meats 
Did  coldlv  furnish  forth  the  marriage  tables. 
Would  I  had  mot  my  dearest  foe  in  heaven, 
<  )r  ever  I  had  seen  that  day,  Horatio  ! 
My  father methinks  I  see  my  father. 

Hor.     Where,  my  lord  ? 

Ham.     In  my  mind's  eye,  Horatio. 

Hor.     1  saw  him  once  ;  he  was  a  goodly  king. 

Ham.     He  was  a  man,  take  him  for  all  in  all  , 
I  shall  not  look  upon  his  like  again. 

Hor.     My  lord,  I  think  I  saw  him  yestermgnt. 

Ham.     Saw  !  who  ? 

Hor.     My  lord,  the  king,  your  father. 

Ham.     The  king,  my  father  ? 

Hor.     Season  your  admiration  for  a  while 
With  an  attent  ear  ;  till  I  may  deliver, 
Upon  the  witness  of  these  gentlemen, 
This  marvel  to  you. 

Ham.     For  Heaven's  love,  let  me  hear. 

Hor.     Two  nights  together  had  these  gentlemen 
Marcellus  and  Bernardo,  on  their  watch, 
In  the  dead  waste  and  middle  of  the  night, 
Been  thus  encountered  :  A  figure  like  your  father 
\  r<ned  at  ail  points,  exactly,  cap-a-pie, 


202  ROSS'S  SPEAKER. 

Appears  before  them,  and,  with  solemn  march, 
Goes  slow  and  stately  by  them.     Thrice  he  walked 
By  their  oppressed  and  fear-surprised  eyes, 
Within  his  truncheon's  length  ;  whilst  they,  distilled 
Almost  to  jelly  with  the  act  of  fear, 
Stand  dumb,  and  speak  not  to  him. 

Ham.     But  where  was  this  ? 

Hor.     My  lord,  upon  the  platform  where  we  watched. 

Ham.     Did  you  not  speak  to  it  ? 
Hor.     My  lord,  I  did  ; 
But  answer  made  it  none.     Yet  once,  methought, 
It  lifted  up  its  head,  and  did  address 
Itself  to  motion,  like  as  it  would  speak ; 
But,  even  then,  the  morning  cock  crew  loud ; 
And  at  the  sound  it  shrunk  in  haste  away, 
And  vanished  from  our  sight. 

Ham.     'Tis  very  strange  ! 

Hor.     As  I  do  live,  my  honored  lord,  'tis  true ; 
And  we  did  think  it  writ  down  in  our  duty 
To  let  you  know  of  it. 

Harp      Indeed,  indeed,  sir,  but  this  troubles  me. 
Hold  you  the  watch  to-night  ? 

Hor.     We  do,  my  lord. 

Ham.     Armed,  say  you  ? 

Hor.     Armed,  my  lord. 

Ham.     From  top  to  toe  ? 

Hor.     My  lord,  from  head  to  foot. 

Ham.     Then  saw  you  not  his  face  ? 

Hor.     O,  yes,  my  lord  :  he  wore  his  beaver  up. 

Ham      What,  looked  he  frowningly  > 

Hor.     A  countenance  more  in  sorrow  than  in  anger 

Ham,     Pale,  or  red  ? 

Hor.     Nay,  very  pale. 

Ham.     And  fixed  his  eyes  upon  you  ? 

Hor.     Most  constantly. 

Ham.     I  would  I  had  been  there. 

Hor.     It  would  have  much  amazed  you. 

Ham.     Very  like,  very  like  ;  staid  it  long  ? 

Hor.     While  one  with  moderate  haste  might  tell  a  hundred 

Ham.     His  beard  was  grizzled  ?  —  no  ?  — 

Hor.     It  was  as  I  have  seen  it  in  his  life, 

sable  silvered. 

Ham.     I'll  watch  to-night ;  perchance  'twill  walk  again 

Hor.     I  warrant  you  it  will. 


HARD  TO   PLEASE.  203 


Ham.     If  it  assume  my  noble  father's  person, 
I'll  speak  to  it,  though  hell  itself  should  gape, 
And  bid  me  hold  my  peace.     I  pray  you,  sir, 
If  you  have  hitherto  concealed  this  sight, 
Let  it  be  tenable  in  your  silence  still  ; 
And  whatsoever  else  shall  hap  to-night, 
Give  it  an  understanding,  but  no  tongue  ; 
I  will  requite  your  love  :  so,  fare  you  well. 
Upon  the  platform,  'twixt  eleven  and  twelve, 
I'll  visit  you. 


Hard  to  please,  —  Miss  Bdobwobth. 

Mrs.  Bolingbroke.  I  wish  I  knew  what  was  the  matter  with 
me  this  morning.  Why  do  you  keep  the  newspaper  all  to  your- 
self, my  dear  ? 

Mr.  Bolingbroke.  Here  it  is  for  you,  my  dear  :  I  have  fin- 
ished it. 

Mrs.  B.  1  humbly  thank  you  for  giving  it  to  me  when  you 
have  done  with  it.  I  hate  stale  news.  Is  there  any  thing  in  the 
paper  ?  for  I  can  not  be  at  the  trouble  of  hunting  it. 

Mr.  B.  Yes,  my  dear ;  there  are  the  marriages  of  two  of 
our  friends. 

Mrs.  B.     Who  ?  who  ? 

Mr.  B.  Your  friend,  the  widow  Nettleby,  to  her  cousin, 
John  Nettleby. 

Mrs.  B.     Mrs.  Nettleby  !    Lord  !    But  why  did  you  tell  me  ? 

Mr.  B.     Because  you  asked  me,  my  dear. 

Mrs.  B.  O,  but  it  is  a  hundred  times  pleasanter  to  read  the 
paragraph  one's  self.  One  loses  all  the  pleasure  of  the  surprise 
by  being  told.     Well,  whose  was  the  other  marriage  ? 

Mr.  B.  0,  my  dear,  I  will  not  tell  you  ;  I  will  leave  yoa  the 
pleasure  of  the  surprise. 

Mrs.  B.  But  you  see  I  can  not  find  it.  How  provoking  you 
are,  my  dear  !     Do  pray  tell  it  me. 

Mr.  B.     Our  friend,  Mr.  Granby. 

Mrs.  B.  Mr.  Granby  !  Dear !  Why  did  you  not  make  me 
guess  ?  I  should  have  guessed  him  directly.  But  why  do  you 
call  him  our  friend  ?  I  am  sure  he  is  no  friend  of  mine,  nor 
ever  was.  I  took  an  aversion  to  him,  as  you  may  remember,  the 
very  first  day  I  saw  him.     I  am  sure  he  is  no  friend  of  mine. 

Mr.  B.  I  am  sorry  for  it,  my  dear  ;  but  I  hope  you  will  go 
and  see  Mrs.  Granby. 


•4y4  ROSS'S    SPEAKER. 

Mrs.  B.     Not  I,  indeed,  my  dear.     Who  was  she  ? 

Mr.  B.     Miss  Cooke. 

Mrs.  B.  Cooke  !  But  there  are  so  many  Cookes  ;  car/t  you 
distinguish  her  in  some  way  ?     Has  she  no  Christian  name  ? 

Mr.  B.     Emma,  I  think.     Yes,  Emma. 

Mrs.  B.  Emma  Cooke  !  No  ;  it  can  not  be  my  friend  Em- 
ma Cooke  ;  for  I  am  sure  she  was  cut  out  for  an  old  maid. 

Mr.  B.  This  lady  seems  to  me  to  be  cut  out  for  a  good 
wife. 

Mrs.  B.  May  be  so.  I  am  sure  Til  never  go  to  see  her. 
Pray,  my  dear,  how  came  you  to  see  so  much  of  her  ? 

Mr.  B.  I  have  seen  very  little  of  her,  my  dear.  I  only  saw 
her  two  or  three  times  before  she  was  married. 

Mrs.  B.  Then,  my  dear,  how  could  you  decide  that  she  was 
cut  out  for  a  good  wife  ?  I  am  sure  you  could  not  judge  of  her 
by  seeing  her  only  two  or  three  times,  and  before  she  was 
married. 

Mr.  B.     Indeed,  my  love,  that  is  a  very  just  observation. 

Mrs.  B.  I  understand  that  compliment  perfectly,  and  thank 
you  for  it,  my  dear.  I  must  own  I  can  bear  any  thing  better 
than  irony. 

Mr.  B.     Irony  !  my  dear,  I  was  perfectly  in  earnest. 

Mrs.  B.  Yes,  yes  ;  in  earnest  —  so  I  perceive.  I  may 
naturally  be  dull  of  apprehension,  but  my  feelings  are  quick 
enough  ;  I  comprehend  you  too  well.  Yes  ;  it  is  impossible  to 
judge  of  a  woman  before  marriage,  or  to  guess  what  sort  of  a 
wife  she  will  make.  I  presume  you  speak  from  experience  ;  you 
have  been  disappointed  yourself,  and  repent  your  choice. 

Mr.  B.  My  dear,  what  did  I  say  that  was  like  this  ?  Upon 
my  word,  I  meant  no  such  thing.  I  really  was  not  thinking  of 
you  in  the  least. 

Mrs.  B.  No  ;  you  never  think  of  rne  now.  1  can  easih 
believe  that  you  were  not  thinking  of  me  in  the  least. 

Mr.  B.  But  I  said  that  only  to  prove  to  you  that  I  could  not 
be  thinking  ill  of  you,  my  dear. 

Mrs.  B.  But  I  would  rather  that  you  thought  ill  of  me,  than 
that  you  did  not  think  of  me  at  all. 

Mr.  B.  Well,  my  dear,  I  will  even  think  ill  of  you,  if  that 
will  please  you. 

Mis.  B.  Do  you  laugh  at  me  ?  When  it  comes  to  this,  1 
am  wretched  indeed.  Never  man  laughed  at  the  woman  he 
loved.  As  long  as  you  had  the  slightest  remains  of  love  for  me, 
you  could  not  make  me  an  object  of  derision  :  ridicule  and  love 
are  incompatible  ;  absolutely  incompatible.     Well,  I  have  done 


OLD    GKIMES.  205 

my  best,  my  very  best,  to  make  you  happy,  but  in  vain,  j 
see  I  am  not  cut  out  to  be  a  good  wife.  Happy,  happy  Mrs 
Granby  ! 

Mr.  B.  Happy,  I  hope  sincerely,  that  she  will  be  with  my 
friend  ;  but  my  happiness  must  depend  on  you,  my  love  ;  so,  for 
my  sake,  if  not  for  your  own,  be  composed,  and  do  not  torment 
yourself  with  such  fancies. 

Mrs.  B.  I  do  wonder  whether  this  Mrs.  Granby  is  reahy 
that  Miss  Emma  Cooke.  I'll  go  and  see  her  directly  ;  see  her 
I  must. 

Mr.  B.  I  am  heartily  glad  of  it,  my  dear  ;  for  I  am  sure  a 
visit  to  his  wife  will  give  my  friend  Granby  real  pleasure. 

Mrs.  B.  I  promise  you,  my  dear,  I  do  not  go  to  give  him 
pleasure   or  you  either  ;  but  to  satisfy  my  own  —  curiosity. 


Old    Grimes.  —  Albert  G.  Grbbkb. 

Old  Grimes  is  dead  ;  that  good  old  man 

We  never  shall  see  more  ; 
He  used  to  wear  a  long  black  coat, 

All  buttoned  down  before. 

His  heart  was  open  as  the  day, 

His  feelings  all  were  true  ; 
His  hair  was  some  inclined  to  gray  — 

He  wore  it  in  a  queue. 

Whene'er  he  heard  the  voice  of  pain, 
His  breast  with  pity  burned  ; 

The  large  round  head  upon  his  cane 
From  ivory  was  turned. 

Kind  words  he  ever  had  for  all ; 

He  knew  no  base  design  : 
His  eyes  were  dark  and  rather  small. 

His  nose  was  aquiline. 

He  lived  at  peace  with  all  mankind  • 

In  friendship  he  was  true  ; 
His  coat  bad  pocket  holes  behind, 

His  pantaloons  were  blue. 


206  ROSS'S  SPEAKER. 

Unharmed,  the  sin  which  earth  pollutes 
He  passed  securely  o'er  ; 

And  never  wore  a  pair  of  boots 
For  thirty  years  or  more. 

But  good  old  Grimes  is  now  at  rest 
Nor  fears  misfortune's  frown  : 

He  wore  a  double-breasted  vest  — 
The  stripes  ran  up  and  down. 

He  modest  merit  sought  to  find, 

And  pay  it  its  desert ; 
He  had  no  malice  in  his  mind, 

No  ruffles  on  his  shirt. 

His  neighbors  he  did  not  abuse  — 

Was  sociable  and  gay  , 
He  wore  large  buckles  on  his  shoes, 

And  changed  them  every  day. 

His  knowledge,  hid  from  public  gaze, 
He  did  not  bring  to  view, 

Nor  make  a  noise,  town-meeting  days, 
As  many  people  do. 

His  worldly  goods  he  never  threw 
In  trust  to  Fortune's  chances  ; 

But  lived  (as  all  his  brothers  do) 
In  easy  circumstances. 

Thus  undisturbed  by  anxious  cares, 
His  peaceful  moments  ran, 

And  every  body  said  he  was 
A  fine  old  gentleman. 


Major  Brown.  —  Hood. 

If  any  man,  in  any  age,  in  any  town  or  city, 

Was  ever  valiant  courteous,  cage,  experienced,  wise,  or  witty, 

That  man  was  Major  Brown  by  name :    the  fact  you  can  no'i 

doubt, 
For  he  himself  would  say  the  same,  ten  times  a  day,  about. 


MAJOR  BKOWN.  20T 

The  major  in  the  foreign  wars  indifferently  had  fared  ; 
For  he  was  covered  o'er  with  scars,  though  he  was  never  scared 
But  war  had  now  retired  to  rest,  and  piping  peace  returned  ; 
Yet  still  within  his  ardent  breast  the  major's  spirit  burned. 

When  suddenly  he  heard  of  one  who  in  an  air  balloon 

Had  gone  —  I   can't  tell  where   he'd   gone  —  almost   into  the 

moon. 
"  Let  me  —  let  me,"  the  major  cries,  "  let  me,  like  him,  ascend  , 
And  if  it  fall  that  I  should  rise,  who  knows  where  it  may  end  ?  " 
The  cords  are  cut  —  a    mighty  shout  —  the    globe    ascends  on 

high  ; 
And,  like  a  ball  from  gun  shot  out,  the  major  mounts  the  sky  — 
Or  would  have  done,  but  cruel  chance  forbade  it  so  to  be ; 
And  bade  the  major  not  advance  —  caught  in  a  chestnut  tree. 

But  soon  the  awkward  branch  gives  way,  he  smooths  his  angry 

brow, 
Shoots  upward,  rescued  from  delay,  and  makes  the  branch  a 

bow  : 
Till,  mounting  furlongs  now  some  dozens,  and  peeping  down  he 

pants 
To  see  his  mother,  sisters,  cousins,  and  uncles  look  like  ants. 
That  Brown  looked  blue  I  will  not  say, —  his  uniform  was  red,  — 
But  he  thought  that  if  his  car  gave  way  he  should  probably  bo 

dead. 
He  gave  his  manly  breast  a  slap,  and  loudly  shouted, "  Courage  ! " 
And  waved  above  his  head  the  cap  in  which  he  used  to  forage. 

And  up  he  went,  and  looked  around  to  see  what  there  might  be, 
And  felt  convinced  that  on  the  ground  were  better  things  to  see. 
A  strange  bird  came  his  path  across,  whose  name  he  did  not 

know  ; 
Quoth  he,  "  'Tis  like  an  albatross  ; "  it  proved  to  be  a  crow. 
"  I  wish   that  you  would  please  to  drop,"  quoth  Brown  to  his 

balloon ;  — 
lie  might  as  well  have  spoken  to  the  man  that's  in  the  moon. 
And  now  the  heavens  begin  to  lower,  and  thunders  loud  to  roll, 
And  winds    and    rains   to  blow  and   pour,  that  would  daunt  a 

general's  soul. 

Such  a  hurricane  to  Major  Brown  must  most  unpleasant  be ; 
And  he  said     "  If  I  can  not  get  down,  'twill    be    all   up  with 
me  !  ' 


208  KOSS'S    SPEAKER. 

From  his  pocket,  then,  a  knife  he  took  ;  in  Birmingham    twas 

made ; 
The  handle  was  of  handsome  look,  of  tempered  steel  the  blade. 
Says  he,  "  The  acquaintance  of  a  balloon  I  certainly  shall  cut ; " 
So  in  the  silken  bag  full  soon  his  penknife  blade  he  put. 
Out  rushed  the  gas  imprisoned  there  —  the  balloon  began  to  sink  , 
"  I  shall  surely  soon  get  out  of  the  air,"  said  Major  Brown,  "  I 

think." 

Alas  for  Brown,  balloon,  and  car,  the  gas  went  out  too  fast ; 
The  car  went  upside  down,  and  far  poor  Major  Brown  was  cast. 
Long  time  head  over  heels  he  tumbled,  till  unto  the  ground, 
As  I  suppose,  he  must  have  come  ;  but  he  was  never  found. 
The  car  was  found  in  London  town  ;  the  bag  to  Oxford  flew ; 
But  what  became  of  Major  Brown  no  mortal  ever  knew. 


The    Duel.  —  Hood. 

In  Brentford  town,  of  old  renown,  there  lived  a  Mister  Bray, 

Who  fell  in  love  with  Lucy  Bell,  and  so  did  Mister  Clay. 

To  see  her  ride  from  Hammersmith,  by  all  it.  was  allowed, 

Such  fair  "  oulside  "  *  was  never  seen  —  an  angel  on  a  cloud. 

Said  Mr.  Bray  to  Mr.  Clay,  "  You  choose  to  rival  me, 

And   court  Miss  Bell ;    hut  there   your   court   no  thoroughfare 

shall  be. 
Unless  you  now  give  up  your  suit,  you  may  repent  your  love ; 
I,  who  have  shot  a  pigeon  match,  can  shoot  a  turtle  dove. 

"  So  pray,  before  you  woo  her  more,  consider  what  yoi  do  : 

If  you  pop  aught  to  Lucy  Bell,  I'll  pop  it  into  you." 

Said  Mr.  Clay  to  Mr.  Bray,  "  Your  threats  I  do  explode  ; 

One  who  has  been  a  volunteer  knows  how  to  prime  and  load. 

And  so  I  say  to  you,  unless  your  passion  quiet  keeps, 

I,  who    have    shot   and    hit   bulls'  eyes,   may  chance  to  hit    a 

sheep's  !  " 
Now  gold  is  oft  for  silver  changed,  and  that  for  copper  red  ; 
But  these  two  went  away  to  give  each  other  change  for  lead. 

But  first  they  found  a  friend  apiece,  this  pleasant  thought  :o  give  — 
That  when  they  both  were  dead,  they'd  have  two  seands  yet  o 
live. 

♦  Id  England,  women  frequently  ride  on  the  outside  of  staga  toucher 


THE   MKTHDAY   OF   WASHINGTON.  i>09 

To  measure  out  the  ground  not  long  the  seconds  next  forbore  , 
And  having  taken  one  rash  step,  they  took  a  dozen  more. 
They  next  prepared  each  pistol  pan  against  the  deadly  strife, 
By  putting  in  the  prime  of  death,  against  the  prime  of  life. 
Now  all  was  ready  for  the  foes ;  but  when  they  took  their  stands 
Fear  made  them  tremble  so,  they  found  they  both  were  shaking 
hands. 

Said  Mr.  C.  to  Mr.  B.,  "  Here  one  of  us  may  fall, 

And,  like  St.  Paul's  Cathedral  now,  be  doomed  to  have  a  ball 

I  do  confess  I  did  attach  misconduct  to  your  name ; 

If  I  withdraw  the  charge,  will  then  your  ramrod  do  the  same  ? 

Said  Mr.  B.,  "  I  do  agree.     But  think  of  honor's  courts  ; 

If  we  go  off  without  a  shot,  there  will  be  strange  reports. 

But  look !  the  morning  now  is  bright,  though  cloudy  it  begun , 

Why  can't  we  aim  above,  as  if  we  had  called  out  the  sun  ?  " 

So  up  into  the  harmless  air  their  bullets  they  did  send ; 

And  may  all  other  duels  have  that  upshot  in  the  end. 


Tfte  Birthday  of  Washington.— Rufus  Choath. 

The  birthday  of  the  "  Father  of  his  Country  "  !  May  it  ever 
be  freshly  remembered  by  American  hearts.  May  it  ever  re- 
awaken in  them  a  filial  veneration  for  his  memory  ;  ever  rekindle 
the  fires  of  patriotic  regard  to  the  country  which  he  loved  so 
well  ;  to  which  he  gave  his  youthful  vigor  and  his  youthful 
energy,  during  the  perilous  period  of  the  early  Indian  warfare ; 
to  whicli  he  devoted  his  life,  in  the  maturity  of  his  powers,  in  the 
field  ;  to  which,  again,  he  offered  the  counsels  of  his  wisdom  and 
his  experience,  as  president  of  the  convention  that  framed  our 
constitution  ;  which  he  guided  and  directed  while  in  the  chair  of 
state,  and  for  which  the  last  prayer  of  his  earthly  supplication, 
was  offered  up,  when  it  came  the  moment  for  him  so  well,  and 
so  grandly,  and  so  calmly,  to  die.  He  was  the  first  man  of  the 
time  in  which  he  grew.  His  memory  is  first  and  most  sacred 
in  our  love ;  and  ever  hereafter,  till  the  last  drop  of  blood  shall 
freeze  in  the  last  American  heart,  his  name  shall  be  a  spell  of 
power  and  might. 

Yes,  gentlemen,  there  is  one  personal,  one  vast  felicity,  which 
no  man  can  share  with  him.  It  was  the  daily  beauty  and  tower- 
ing and  matchless  glory  of  his  life,  which  enabled  him  to  create 
his  country,  and,  at  the  same  time,  secure  an  undying  love  and 
14 


210  ROSS'S   SPEAKER. 

regard  from  the  whole  American  people.  "  The  first  in  the 
hearts  of  his  countrymen  !  "  Yes,  first !  He  has  our  first  and 
most  fervent  love.  Undoubtedly  there  were  brave,  and  wise 
and  good  men,  before  his  day,  in  every  colony.  But  the  Ameri- 
can nation,  as  a  nation,  I  do  not  reckon  to  have  begun  before 
1774.  And  the  first  love  of  that  young  America  was  Washing- 
ton. The  first  word  she  lisped  was  his  name.  Her  earliest 
breath  spoke  it.  It  still  is  her  proud  ejaculation,  and  it  will  be 
the  last  gasp  of  her  expiring  life. 

Yes,  others  of  our  great  men  have  been  appreciated  —  many 
admired  by  all.  But  him  we  love.  Him  we  all  love.  At^ut 
and  around  him  we  call  up  no  dissentient,  and  discordant,  and  dis 
satisfied  elements  —  no  sectional  prejudice  nor  bias  —  no  party 
no  creed,  no  dogma  of  politics.  None  of  these  shall  assail  him. 
Yes,  when  the  storm  of  battle  blows  darkest  and  rages  highest, 
the  memory  of  Washington  shall  nerve  every  American  arm, 
and  cheer  every  American  heart.  It  shall  relume  that  Prome- 
thean fire,  that  sublime  flame  of  patriotism,  that  devoted  love  of 
country,  which  his  words  have  commended,  which  his  example 
has  consecrated. 

«'  Where  may  the  wearied  eye  repose, 

When  gazing  on  the  great, 
Where  neither  guilty  glory  glows, 

Nor  despicable  state  ? 
Yes  —  one  —  the  first,  the  last,  the  bast, 
The  Cincinnatus  of  the  west, 

Whom  envy  dared  not  hate, 
Bequeathed  the  name  of  Washington, 
To  make  man  blush  there  was  but  one." 


The  Indian,  as  he  was  and  is.—Q.  Spkaotj*. 

Not  many  generations  ago,  where  you  now  sit,  circled  with 
all  that  exalts  and  embellishes  civilized  life,  the  rank  thistle 
nodded  in  the  wind,  and  the  wild  fox  dug  his  hole  unscared. 
Here  lived  and  loved  another  race  of  beings.  Beneath  the 
same  sun  that  rolls  over  your  heads,  the  Indian  hunter  pursued 
the  panting  deer ;  gazing  on  the  same  moon  that  smiles  for  you, 
the  Indian  lover  wooed  his  dusky  mate.  Here  the  wigwam  blaze 
beamed  on  the  tender  and  helpless,  the  council  fire  glared  on  the 
wise  and  daring.  Now  they  dipped  their  noble  limbs  in  your 
sedgy  lakes,  and  now  they  paddled  the  light  canoe  along  your 
rocky  shores.     Here   they    warred ;    the   echoing   whoop,    the 


REPLY  TO  SIR  ROBERT  WALPOLE.       211 

bloody  grapple,  the  defying  death  song,  all  were  here  ;  and  when 
the  tiger  strife  was  over,  here  curled  the  smoke  of  peace.  Here, 
too,  they  worshipped  ;  and  from  many  a  dark  bosom  went  up  a 
pure  prayer  to  the  Great  Spirit.  He  had  not  written  his  laws 
for  them  on  tables  of  stone,  but  he  had  traced  them  on  the  tables 
of  their  hearts.  The  poor  child  of  nature  knew  not  the  God  of 
revelation,  but  the  God  of  the  universe  he  acknowledged  in  every 
thing  around. 

And  all  this  has  passed  away.  Across  the  ocean  came  a  pil- 
grim bark,  bearing  the  seeds  of  life  and  death.  The  former 
were  sown  for  you  ;  the  latter  sprang  up  in  the  path  of  the  sim- 
ple native.  Two  hundred  years  have  changed  the  character  of 
a  great  continent,  and  blotted  forever  from  its  face  a  whole 
peculiar  people.  Art  has  usurped  the  bowers  of  nature,  and  the 
anointed  children  of  education  have  been  too  powerful  for  the 
tribes  of  the  ignorant.  As  a  race,  they  have  withered  from  the 
land.  Their  arrows  are  broken,  their  springs  are  dried  up,  their 
cabins  are  in  the  dust.  Their  council  fire  has  long  since  gone 
out  on  the  shore,  and  their  war  cry  is  fast  dying  to  the  untrodden 
west.  Slowly  and  sadly  they  climb  the  distant  mountains,  and 
read  their  doom  in  the  setting  sun.  They  are  shrinking  before 
the  mighty  tide  which  is  pressing  them  away ;  they  must  soon 
hear  the  roar  of  the  last  wave,  which  will  settle  over  them 
forever. 


Reply  to  Sir  Robert   Walpole.  —  ¥m. 

The  atrocious  crime  of  being  a  young  man,  which  the  honor- 
able gentleman  has,  with  such  spirit  and  decency,  charged  upon 
me,  I  shall  neither  attempt  to  palliate  nor  deny ;  but  content 
myself  with  hoping  that  I  may  be  one  of  those  whose  follies 
cease  with  their  youth,  and  not  of  that  number  who  are  ignorant 
in  spite  of  experience.  Whether  youth  can  be  imputed  to  a  man 
as  a  reproach  I  will  not  assume  the  province  of  determining ; 
but  surely  age  may  become  justly  contemptible,  if  the  opportuni- 
ties which  it  brings  have  passed  away  without  improvement,  and 
vice  appears  to  prevail  when  the  passions  have  subsided.  The 
wretch,  who,  after  having  seen  the  consequences  of  a  thousand 
errors,  continues  still  to  blunder,  and  whose  age  has  only  added 
obstinacy  to  stupidity,  is  surely  the  object  either  of  abhorrence 
or  contempt,  and  deserves  qoI  thai  his  gray  hairs  should  secure 
him  from   insult.      Much    more  is    be  to  be  abhorred,  who,  as   lie 


212  ROSS'S   SPEAKER. 

has  advanced  in  age,  has  receded  from  virtue,  and  become  more 
wicked  with  less  temptation  ;  who  prostitutes  himself  for  money 
which  he  cannot  enjoy,  and  spends  the  remains  of  his  life  in  the 
ruin  of  his  country. 

But  youth  is  not  my  only  crime ;  I  am  accused  of  acting  a 
theatrical  part.  A  theatrical  part  may  either  imply  some  pecu- 
liarity of  gesture,  or  a  dissimulation  of  my  real  sentiments,  and 
an  adoption  of  the  opinions  and  language  of  another  man.  In 
the  first  sense,  the  charge  is  too  trifling  to  be  confuted,  and 
deserves  only  to  be  mentioned  that  it  may  be  despised.  I  am 
at  liberty,  like  every  other  man,  to  use  my  own  language ;  and 
though,  perhaps,  I  may  have  some  ambition  to  please  this  gentle- 
man, 1  shall  not  lay  myself  under  any  restraint,  nor  very  soli- 
citously copy  his  diction  or  his  mien,  however  matured  by  age  or 
modeled  by  experience. 

But,  if  any  man  shall,  by  charging  me  with  theatrical  beha 
vior,  imply  that  I  utter  any  sentiments  but  my  own,  I  shall  trea. 
him  as  a  calumniator  and  a  villain ;  nor  shall  any  protection 
shelter  him  from  the  treatment  he  deserves.  I  shall,  on  such  an 
occasion,  without  scruple,  trample  upon  all  those  forms  with 
which  wealth  and  dignity  intrench  themselves,  nor  shall  any 
thing  but  age  restrain  my  resentment ;  age,  which  always  brings 
one  privilege  —  that  of  being  insolent  and  supercilious  without 
punishment. 

But,  with  regard  to  those  whom  I  have  ofFended,  I  am  of  opin- 
ion that,  if  I  had  acted  a  borrowed  part,  I  should  have  avoided 
their  censure ;  the  heat  that  offended  them  was  the  ardor  of 
conviction,  and  that  zeal  for  the  service  of  my  country  which 
neither  hope  nor  fear  shall  influence  me  to  suppress.  I  will  not 
sit  unconcerned  while  my  liberty  is  invaded,  nor  look  in  silence 
upon  public  robbery.  I  will  exert  my  endeavors,  at  whatever 
hazard,  to  repel  the  aggressor,  and  drag  the  thief  to  justice,  who- 
ever may  protect  him  in  his  villanies,  and  whoever  may  partake 
of  his  plunder. 


Character  of  Mr.  Pitt. — Robbbtson 

The  secretary  stood  alone.  Modern  degeneracy  had  not 
reached  him.  Original  and  unaccommodating,  the  features  of 
his  character  had  the  hardihood  of  antiquity.  His  august  mind 
overawed  majesty  itself.  No  state  chicanery,  no  narrow  system 
of  vicious  politics,  no  idle  contest  for  ministerial  victories,  sunk 


CHARACTER   OF  MR,  PITT.  213 

him  to  the  vulgar  level  of  the  great ;  but  overbearing,  persua- 
sive, and  impracticable,  his  object  was  England,  his  ambition 
was  fame. 

Without  dividing,  he  destroyed  party ;  without  corrupting,  he 
made  a  venal  age  unanimous.  France  sank  beneath  him.  With 
one  hand  he  smote  the  house  of  Bourbon,  and  wielded  in  the 
other  the  democracy  of  England.  The  sight  of  his  mind  was 
infinite ;  and  his  schemes  were  to  affect,  not  England,  not  the 
present  age  only,  but  Europe  and  posterity.  Wonderful  were 
the  means  by  which  these  schemes  were  accomplished ;  always 
seasonable,  always  adequate,  the  suggestions  of  an  understanding 
ammated  by  ardor,  and  enlightened  by  prophecy. 

The  ordinarv  feelings  which  make  life  amiable  and  indolent 
were  unknown"  to  him.  No  domestic  difficulties,  no  domestic 
weakness,  reached  him ;  but  aloof  from  the  sordid  occurrences 
of  life,  and  unsullied  by  its  intercourse,  he  came  occasionally 
into  our  system,  to  counsel  and  decide.  A  character  so  exalted, 
so  strenuous,  so  various,  so  authoritative,  astonished  a  corrupt 
age,  and  the  treasury  trembled  at  the  name  of  Pitt,  through  all 
classes  of  venality.  Corruption  imagined,  indeed,  that  she  had 
found  defects  in  this  statesman,  and  talked  much  of  the  inconsist- 
ency of  his  glory,  and  much  of  the  ruin  of  his  victories  ;  but  the 
history  of  his  country,  and  the  calamities  of  the  enemy,  answered 
and  refuted  her. 

Nor  were  his  political  his  only  talents.  His  eloquence  wa9 
an  era  in  the  senate  —  peculiar  and  spontaneous ;  familiarly  ex- 
pressing gigantic  sentiments  and  instructive  wisdom  ;  not  like  the 
torrent  of  Demosthenes,  or  the  splendid  conflagration  of  Tully ; 
it  resembled  sometimes  the  thunder,  and  sometimes  the  music  of 
the  spheres.  He  did  not  conduct  the  understanding  through  the 
painful  subtilty  of  argumentation,  nor  was  he  ever  on  the  rack 
of  exertion  ;  but  rather  lightened  upon  the  subject,  and  reached 
the  point  by  the  flashings  of  the  mind,  which,  like  those  of  the 
eye,  were  felt,  but  could  not  be  followed. 

Upon  the  whole,  there  was  in  this  man  something  that  could 
create,  subvert,  or  reform ;  an  understanding,  a  spirit,  and  an 
eloquence,  to  summon  mankind  to  society,  or  to  break  the  bonds 
of  slavery  asunder,  and  to  rule  the  wildnees  of  free  minds 
with  unbounded  authority ;  something  that  could  establish  or 
overwhelm  empires,  and  strike  a  blow  in  the  world  that  should 
romund  through  the  universe. 


214  ROSS'S   SPEAKER. 

British    Refugees.  —  Patrick  Hrnhy. 

rExtract  from  a  speech  delivered  in  the  legislature  of  Virginia,  in  favoi 
of  permitting  the  Eritish  refugees,  or  those  who  had  joined  the  English 
party  in  the  war  of  independence,  to  return  to  the  United  States. J 

We  have,  Mr.  Chairman,  an  extensive  country  without  popu- 
lation. What  can  be  a  more  obvious  policy  than  that  this  coun- 
try ought  to  bi  peopled  ?  People  form  the  strength  and  constitute 
the  wealth  of  a  nation.  I  want  to  see  our  vast  forests  filled  up 
by  some  process  a  little  more  speedy  than  the  ordinary  course 
of  nature.  I  wish  to  see  these  states  rapidly  ascending  to  that 
rank  which  the;r  natural  advantages  authorize  them  to  hold 
among  the  nations  of  the  earth.  Cast  your  eyes  over  this  exten- 
sive country.  Observe  the  salubrity  of  your  climate,  the  variety 
and  fertility  of  your  soil,  and  see  that  soil  intersected  in  every 
quarter  by  bold,  navigable  streams,  flowing  to  the  east  and  to 
the  west,  as  if  the  finger  of  Heaven  were  marking  out  the  couise 
of  your  settlements,  inviting  you  to  enterprise,  and  pointing  the 
way  to  wealth. 

Sir,  you  are  destined,  at  some  period  or  other,  to  become  a 
great  agricultural  and  commercial  people ;  the  only  question  is, 
whether  you  choose  to  reach  this  point  by  slow  gradations,  and 
at  some  distant  period,  lingering  on  through  a  long  and  sickly 
minority,  subjected  meanwhile  to  the  machinations,  insults,  and 
oppressions  of  enemies,  foreign  and  domestic,  without  sufficient 
strength  to  resist  and  chastise  them,  or  whether  you  choose 
rather  to  rush  at  once,  as  it  were,  to  the  full  enjoyment  of  those 
high  destinies,  and  be  able  to  cope,  single-handed,  with  the  proud 
est  oppressor  of  the  world. 

If  you  prefer  the  latter  course,  as  I  trust  you  do,  encourage 
immigration  ;  encourage  the  husbandmen,  the  mechanics,  the  mer 
chants  of  the  old  world  to  come  and  settle  in  the  land  of  promise. 
Make  it  the  home  of  the  skillful,  the  industrious,  the  fortunate, 
and  the  happy,  as  well  as  the  asylum  of  the  distressed.  Fill  up 
the  measure  of  your  population  as  speedily  as  you  can,  by  the 
means  which  Heaven  has  pla#ed  in  your  power ;  and  I  venture 
to  prophesy  tners  are  now  those  living  who  will  see  this  favored 
land  among  the  most  powerful  on  earth,  able  to  take  care  of 
herself  without  resorting  to  that  policy  so  dangerous,  though 
sometimes  unavoidable,  of  calling  in  foreign  aid.  Yes,  they  will 
see  her  great  in  arts  and  in  arms,  her  golden  harvests  waving 
over  fields  of  immeasurable  extent,  her  commerce  penetrating 
the  most  distant  seas,  and  her  cannon  silencing  the  vain  Musi 
of  those  who  now  proudly  affect  to  rule  the  waves. 


BRITISH   REFUGEES.  215 

Instead  of  refusing  permission  to  the  refugees  to  return,  it  is 
your  true  policy  to  encourage  immigration  to  this  country  by  every 
means  in  your  power.  Sir,  you  must  have  men.  You  cannot 
get  along  without  them.  Those  heavy  forests  of  timber,  under 
which  your  lands  are  groaning,  must  be  cleared  away.  Those 
vast  riches  which  cover  the  face  of  your  soil,  as  well  as  those 
which  lie  hid  in  its  bosom,  are  to  be  developed  and  gathered  only 
by  the  skill  and  enterprise  of  men.  Your  timber  must  be  worked 
up  into  ships,  to  transport  the  productions  of  the  soil,  and  find 
the  best  markets  for  them  abroad.  Your  great  want  is  the  want 
of  men  ;  and  these  you  must  have,  and  will  have  speedily,  if  you 
are  wise. 

Do  you  ask  how  you  are  to  get  them  ?  Open  your  doors,  sir, 
and  they  will  come.  The  population  of  the  old  world  is  full  to 
overflowing.  That  population  is  ground,  too,  by  the  oppressions 
:>f  the  governments  under  which  they  live.  They  are  already 
standing  on  tiptoe  upon  their  native  shores,  and  looking  to  your 
coasts  with  a  wishful  and  longing  eye.  They  see  here  a  land 
blessed  with  natural  and  political  advantages,  which  are  not 
equaled  by  those  of  any  other  country  on  earth  ;  a  land  on  which 
a  gracious  Providence  hath  emptied  the  horn  of  abundance ;  a 
land  over  which  Peace  hath  now  stretched  forth  her  white  wings, 
and  where  content  and  plenty  lie  down  at  every  door. 

They  see  something  still  more  attractive  than  this.  They  see 
a  land  in  which  Liberty  has  taken  up  her  abode  ;  that  Liberty 
whom  they  had  considered  as  a  fabled  goddess,  existing  only  in 
the  fancies  of  the  poets.  They  see  her  here,  a  real  divinity  ;  her 
altars  rising  on  every  hand,  throughout  these  happy  states ;  her 
glories  chanted  by  three  millions  of  tongues ;  and  the  whole  re- 
gion smiling  under  her  blessed  influence.  Let  but  this  celestial 
goddess,  Liberty,  stretch  forth  her  fair  hand  toward  the  people 
of  the  old  world,  tell  them  to  come,  and  bid  them  weicome, 
and  you  will  see  them  pouring  in  from  the  north,  from  the  south, 
from  the  east,  and  from  the  west.  Your  wilderness  will  be 
cleared  and  settled,  your  deserts  will  smile,  your  ranks  will  be 
filled,  and  you  will  soon  be  in  a  condition  to  defy  the  powers  of 
any  adversary. 

But  gentlemen  object  to  any  accession  from  Great  Britain,  and 
particularly  to  the  return  of  the  British  refugees.  Sir,  I  feel  no 
objection  to  the  return  of  those  deluded  people.  They  have,  to 
be  sure,  mistaken  their  own  interests  most  wonderfully,  and  most 
wofully  have  they  suffered  the  punishment  due  to  their  offences. 
But  the  relations  which  we  bear  to  them  and  to  their  native  coun- 
try are  now  changed.     Their  king  hath  acknowledged  our  inde- 


216  ROSS'S  SPEAKER. 

pendcnce       The  quarrel  is  over.      Peace   hath  returned,  and 
found  us  a  free  people. 

Let  us  have  the  magnanimity  to  lay  aside  our  antipathies  and 
prejudices,  and  consider  the  subject  in  a  political  light.  They 
are  an  enterprising,  moneyed  people.  They  will  be  serviceable 
in  taking  off  the  surplus  produce  of  our  lands,  and  supplying  us 
with  necessaries  during  the  infant  state  of  our  manufactures. 
Even  if  they  be  inimical  to  us  in  point  of  feeling  and  principle, 
I  can  see  no  objection,  in  a  political  view,  to  making  them  tribu- 
tary to  our  advantage.  And  as  I  have  no  prejudices  to  prevent 
my  making  use  of  them,  so  I  have  no  fear  of  any  mischief  they 
can  do  us.  Afraid  of  them  !  What,  sir,  shall  we,  who  have  laid 
the  proud  British  lion  at  our  feet,  now  be  afraid  of  his  whelps  ? 


The  Fourteenth  Congress.  —  R.  h.  Wildb. 

I  had  the  honor  to  be  a  member  of  the  fourteenth  Congress. 
It  was  an  honor  then.  What  it  is  now,  I  shall  not  say.  It  is 
what  the  twenty-second  Congress  have  been  pleased  to  make  it. 
I  have  neither  time,  nor  strength,  nor  ability,  to  speak  of  the 
legislators  of  that  day  as  they  deserve,  nor  is  this  a  fit  occasion. 
Yet  the  coldest  or  most  careless  nature  can  not  recur  to  such 
associates,  without  some  touch  of  generous  feeling,  which,  in 
quicker  spirits,  would  kindle  into  high  and  almost  holy  enthusiasm. 

Preeminent  among  them  was  a  gentleman  of  South  Carolina,* 
now  no  more  —  the  purest,  the  calmest,  the  most  philosophical  of 
our  country's  modern  statesmen ;  one  no  less  remarkable  for 
gentleness  of  manners  and  kindness  of  heart  than  for  that  pas- 
sionless, unclouded  intellect  which  rendered  him  deserving  of 
the  praise,  if  ever  man  deserved  it,  of  merely  standing  by,  and 
letting  reason  argue  for  him ;  the  true  patriot,  incapable  of  all 
selfish  ambition,  who  shunned  office  and  distinction,  yet  served 
his  country  faithfully,  because  he  loved  her ;  him  I  mean 
who  consecrated,  by  his  example,  the  noble  precept,  so  entirely 
his  own,  that  the  first  station  in  a  republic  was  neither  to  be 
sought  after  nor  declined  —  a  sentiment  so  just  and  so  happily 
expressed  that  it  continues  to  be  repeated,  because  it  can  not  be 
improved. 

There  was,  also,  a  gentleman  from  Maryland  ,t  whose  ashes 
now  slumber  in  your  cemetery.     It  is  not  long  since  I  stood  bv 

•  Lowndou.  t  Plnckney 


THE  FOURTEENTH  CONGRESS.         21"? 

his  tomb,  and  recalled  him,  as  he  was  then,  in  all  the  pride  and 
power  of  his  genius.  Among  the  first  of  his  countrymen  and 
contemporaries,  as  a  jurist  and  statesman,  first  as  an  orator,  he 
was,  if  not  truly  eloquent,  the  prince  of  rhetoricians.  Nor  did 
the  soundness  of  his  logic  suffer  any  thing  by  a  comparison  with 
the  richness  and  classical  purity  of  the  language  in  which  he 
copiously  poured  forth  those  figurative  illustrations  of  his  argu- 
ment, which  enforced  while  they  adorned  it.  But  let  others 
pronounce  his  eulogy.  I  must  not.  I  feel  as  if  his  mighty  spirit 
*till  haunted  the  scenes  of  its  triumphs,  and  when  I  dared  to 
ATong  them,  indignantly  rebuked  me. 

These  names  have  become  historical.  There  were  others,  of 
*vhom  it  is  more  difficult  to  speak,  because  yet  within  the  reach 
of  praise  or  envy.  For  one  who  was,  or  aspired  to  be,  a  politi- 
cian, it  would  be  prudent,  perhaps  wise,  to  avoid  all  mention  of 
these  men.  Their  acts,  their  words,  their  thoughts,  their  very 
looks,  have  become  subjects  of  party  controversy.  But  he  whose 
ambition  is  of  a  higher  or  lower  order  has  no  such  need  of  re- 
serve.    Talent  is  of  no  party,  exclusively,  nor  is  justice. 

Among  them,  but  not  of  them,  in  the  fearful  and  solitary 
sublimity  of  genius,  stood  a  gentleman  from  Virginia*  —  whom 
it  were  superfluous  to  designate  —  whose  speeches  were  univer- 
sally read,  whose  satire  was  universally  feared.  Upon  whose 
accents  did  this  habitually  listless  and  unlistening  house  hang, 
so  frequently,  with  rapt  attention  ?  Whose  fame  was  identified 
with  that  body  for  so  long  a  period  ?  Who  was  a  more  dextrous 
debater  ;  a  riper  scholar ;  better  versed  in  the  politics  of  our 
own  country,  or  deeper  read  in  the  history  of  others  ?  Above 
all,  who  was  more  thoroughly  imbued  with  the  idiom  of  the  Eng- 
lish language;  more  completely  master  of  its  strength,  and 
beauty,  and  delicacy  ;  or  more  capable  of  breathing  thoughts  of 
(lame  in  words  of  magic  and  tones  of  silver  ? 

There  was,  also,  a  son  of  South  Carolina,!  still  in  the  service 
of  the  republic,  then,  undoubtedly,  the  most  influential  member 
of  this  house.  With  a  genius  eminently  metaphysical,  he  applied 
to  politics  his  habits  of  analysis,  abstraction,  and  condensation, 
and  thus  gave  to  the  problems  of  government  something  of  that 
grandeur  which  the  higher  mathematics  have  borrowed  from 
astronomy.  The  wings  of  his  mind  were  rapid,  but  capricious, 
and  there  were  times  when  the  light,  which  (lashed  from  them 
as  they  passed,  glanced  like  a  mirror  ir.  the  sun,  only  to  dazzle 
the  beholder.     Engrossed  with  his  subject,  careless  of  his  words 

*  Kan'lelj'li.  f  i  '•i.huuij 


218  RG8S8   SPEAKER. 

his  loftiest  flights  of  eloquence  were  sometimes  followed  by  col- 
loquial or  provincial  barbarisms.  But,  though  often  incorrect, 
he  was  always  fascinating.  Language,  with  him,  was  merely 
the  scaffolding  of  thought,  employed  to  raise  a  dome,  which,  like 
Angelo's,  he  suspended  in  the  heavens. 

It  is  equally  impossible  to  forget  or  to  omit  a  gentleman  from 
Kentucky,*  whom  party  has  since  made  the  fruitful  topic  of  un- 
measured panegyric  and  detraction.  Of  sanguine  temperament 
and  impetuous  character,  his  declamation  was  impassioned,  his 
retorts  acrimonious.  Deficient  in  refinement  rather  than  in 
strength,  his  style  was  less  elegant  and  correct  than  animated 
and  impressive.  But  it  swept  away  your  feelings  with  it  like  a 
mountain  torrent,  and  the  force  of  the  stream  left  you  little  leisure 
to  remark  upon  its  clearness.  His  estimate  of  human  nature 
was,  probably,  not  very  high.  Unhappily,  it  is,  perhaps,  more 
likely  to  have  been  lowered,  than  raised,  by  his  subsequent  ex- 
perience. Yet  then,  and  ever  since,  except  when  that  impru- 
dence, so  natural  to  genius,  prevailed  over  his  better  judgment, 
he  adopted  a  lofty  tone  of  sentiment,  whether  he  spoke  of  meas- 
ures or  of  men,  of  friend  or  adversary.  On  many  occasions  he 
was  noble  and  captivating.  One  1  can  never  forget.  It  was  the 
fine  burst  of  indignant  eloquence  with  which  he  replied  to  the 
taunting  question,  "  What  have  we  gained  by  the  war?  " 

Nor  may  I  pass  over  in  silence  a  representative  from  New 
Hampshire,!  who  has  almost  obliterated  all  memory  of  that  dis- 
tinction by  the  superior  fame  he  has  attained  as  a  senator  from 
Massachusetts.  Though  then  but  in  the  bud  of  his  political  life, 
and  hardly  conscious,  perhaps,  of  his  own  extraordinary  powers, 
he  gave  promise  of  the  greatness  he  has  since  achieved.  The 
same  vigor  of  thought ;  the  same  force  of  expression  ;  the  short 
sentences;  the  calm,  cold,  collected  manner;  the  air  of  solemn 
dignity;  the  deep,  sepulchral,  unimpassioned  voice;  all  have 
been  developed  only,  not  changed,  even  to  the  intense  bitterness 
of  his  frigid  irony.  The  piercing  coldness  of  his  sarcasm  was, 
indeed,  peculiar  to  him  ;  they  seemed  to  be  emanations  from  the 
spirit  of  the  icy  ocean.  Nothing  could  be  at  once  so  novel  and 
so  powerful ;  it  was  frozen  mercury,  becoming  as  caustic  as  red 
hot  iron. 

•  Okyr  t  Webstar. 


SOUTH   CAKOL1NA.  819 


Beauty  of  Nature  in  Spring-  Time. 

There  is  surely  no  serener  or  purer  pleasure  on  earth  than  to 
ramble  over  the  fields,  through  the  forests,  and  along  the  rippung 
streams  at  this  most  beautiful  and  lovely  season,  and  hold  com- 
munion with  Nature  in  all  the  boundlessness  of  her  splendor  and 
her  glory.  At  such  times,  bright  thoughts  and  fancies  come  and 
go,  like  the  visions  of  a  better  land.  Yet  how  few  are  the  gen- 
uine lovers  of  Nature  —  persons  who  adore  the  visible  majesty 
of  the  universe  in  all  the  countless  forms  in  which  it  is  made 
manifest  to  the  human  eye  ;  who  regard  the  stars,  the  sea,  and 
the  mountains  with  appropriate  feelings  ;  whose  ears,  like  the 
chords  of  the  wind  harp,  can  extract  music  from  every  passing 
breeze,  and  whose  thoughts  penetrate  beyond  what  is  visible  to 
the  throne  of  the  Invisible  !  Want  of  acquaintance  with  natural 
objects,  as  well  as  familiarity  with  them  from  infancy  to  man- 
hood, disqualifies  thousands  for  the  true  worship  of  nature. 

The  Mammon-worshipers  of  the  city  see  but  little  to  admire 
in  earth,  ocean,  or  sky,  and  look  upon  every  moment  as  wasted 
which  is  spent  afar  from  the  wearying  si  rife  of  business.  But  in 
every  community  there  are  those  whose  hearts  are  loyal  to  nature, 
and  catch  inspiration  from  all  those  objects  which  are  hung,  like  the 
trophies  of  divine  power,  on  the  walls  of  the  great  temple  of  cre- 
ation. There  is  a  language  which  is  intelligible  alike  to  civilized 
and  savage  man,  that  establishes  a  brotherhood  throughout  the 
world.  It  is  articulated  by  the  winds  and  streams,  heard  in  the 
hoarse  anthem  of  the  stormy  sea,  and  in  the  silence  of  the 
watches  of  the  night,  while  its  characters  are  seen  in  the  lofty 
ranges  of  mountains  and  in  the  radiant  landscapes.  They  who 
can  appreciate  this  language  have  sources  of  happiness  which 
are  indestructible.  They  are  true  poets,  whether  they  chain 
their  feelings  in  verse,  or  whether  their  thoughts  remain  un- 
Bpoken,  unwritten,  and  unsung.  For  there  is  a  poetry  of  the 
heart  as  well  as  of  the  mind,  and  though  the  former  may  never 
be  uttered  to  the  delight  of  thousands,  yet  it  is  an  ever-abiding 
fountain  of  bliss  to  him  who  possesses  it. 


South   Carolina.  —  Hatni. 

If  there  be  one  state  in  the  Union,  Mr.  President,  that  may 
challenge  comparison  with  any  other,  for  a  uniform,  zealous, 
ardent,  and   uncalculating  devotion   to  the    Union,  that    suite   is 


220  ROSS'S   SPEAKER. 

South  Carolina.  Sir,  from  the  very  commencement  of  the 
revolution  up  to  this  hour,  there  is  no  sacrifice,  however  great, 
she  has  not  cheerfully  made,  no  service  she  has  ever  hesitated 
to  perform. 

She  has  adhered  to  you  in  your  prosperity  ;  but  in  your  ad- 
versity she  has  clung  to  you  with  more  than  filial  affection. 
No  matter  what  was  the  condition  of  her  domestic  affairs,  though 
deprived  of  her  resources,  divided  by  parties,  or  surrounded  by 
difficulties,  the  call  of  the  country  has  been  to  her  as  the  voice  of 
God.  Domestic  discord  ceased  at  the  sound ;  every  man  be- 
came  at  once  reconciled  to  his  brethren,  and  the  sons  of  Carolina 
were  all  seen  crowding  together  to  the  temple,  bringing  their 
gifts  to  the  altar  of  their  common  country. 

What,  sir,  was  the  conduct  of  the  South,  during  the  revolu- 
tion ?  Sir,  I  honor  New  England  for  her  conduct  in  that  glorious 
struggle.  But  great  as  is  the  praise  which  belongs  to  her,  I  think 
at  least  equal  honor  is  due  to  the  South.  Never  was  there  ex- 
hibited, in  the  history  of  the  world,  higher  examples  of  noble 
daring,  dreadful  suffering,  and  heroic  endurance,  than  by  the 
whigs  of  Carolina  during  the  revolution.  The  whole  state,  from 
the  mountains  to  the  sea,  was  overrun  by  an  overwhelming  force 
of  the  enemy.  The  fruits  of  industry  perished  on  the  spot 
where  they  were  produced,  or  were  consumed  by  the  foe. 

"  The  plains  of  Carolina  "  drank  up  the  most  precious  blood 
of  her  citizens.  Black,  smoking  ruins  marked  the  places  which 
had  been  the  habitation  of  her  children.  Driven  from  their 
homes  into  the  gloomy  and  almost  impenetrable  swamps,  even 
there  the  spirit  of  liberty  survived,  and  South  Carolina,  sus- 
tained by  the  example  of  her  Sumpters  and  her  Marions,  proved, 
by  her  conduct,  that  though  her  soil  might  be  overrun,  the  spirit 
of  her  people  was  invincible. 


Massachusetts  and  South  Carolina,  — Wbbbtkb. 

The  eulogium  pronounced  on  the  character  of  the  State  of 
South  Carolina,  by  the  honorable  gentleman,  for  her  revolution- 
ary and  other  merits,  meets  my  hearty  concurrence.  I  shall  not 
acicnowledge  that  the  honorable  member  goes  before  me,  in  re- 
gard for  whatever  of  distinguished  talent  or  dist;nguished  charac- 
ter South  Carolina  has  produced.  I  claim  part  of  the  honor  ; 
I  partake  in  the  pride  of  her  great  names.  I  claim  them  for 
countrymen,  one  and  all — the  Laurenses,  the  Rutledges,  the 
Pinckneys,  the  Sumpters,  the  Marions,  —  Americans  all,  —  whose 


MASSACHUSETTS   AND    SOUTH   CAROLINA.         22\ 

fame  is  no  more  to  be  hemmed  in  by  state  lines,  than  theii 
talents  and  patriotism  were  capable  of  being  circumscribed  within 
the  same  narrow  limits. 

In  their  day  and  generation  they  served  and  honored  the 
country,  and  the  whole  country,  and  their  renown  is  of  the  treas- 
ures of  the  whole  country.  Him  whose  honored  name  the  gen- 
tleman himself  bears  —  does  he  suppose  me  less  capable  of 
gratitude  for  his  patriotism,  or  sympathy  for  his  suffering,  than 
if  his  eyes  had  first  opened  upon  the  light  in  Massachusetts, 
instead  of  South  Carolina  ?  Sir,  does  he  suppose  it  in  his  power 
to  exhibit  in  Carolina  a  name  so  bright  as  to  produce  envy  in  my 
bosom?  No,  sir  —  increased  gratification  and  delight  rather. 
Sir,  I  thank  God  that,  if  I  am  gifted  with  little  of  the  spirit  which 
is  said  to  be  able  to  raise  mortals  to  the  skies,  I  have  yet  none,  as 
I  trust,  of  that  other  spirit,  which  would  drag  angels  down. 

When  I  shall  be  found,  sir,  in  my  place  here  in  the  Senale, 
or  elsewhere,  to  sneer  at  public  merit,  because  it  happened  to 
spring  up  beyond  the  little  limits  of  my  own  state  or  neighbor- 
hood ;  when  I  refuse  for  any  such  cause,  or  for  any  cause,  the 
homage  due  to  American  talent,  to  elevated  patriotism,  to  sin- 
cere devotion  to  liberty  and  the  country  ;  or  if  I  see  an  uncom- 
mon endowment  of  Heaven  —  if  I  see  extraordinary  capacity  or 
virtue  —  in  any  son  of  the  South,  and  if,  moved  by  local  prejudice, 
or  gangrened  by  state  jealousy,  I  get  up  here  to  abate  a  tithe 
of  a  hair  from  his  just  character  and  just  fame,  may  my  tongue 
cleave  to  the  roof  of  my  mouth. 

Mr.  President,  I  shall  enter  on  no  encomium  upon  Massa 
chusctts.  She  needs  none.  There  she  is ;  behold  her,  and 
judge  for  yourselves.  There  is  her  history  ;  the  world  knows  il 
by  heart.  The  past,  at  least,  is  secure.  There  is  Boston,  and 
Concord,  and  Lexington,  and  Bunker  Hill  ;  and  there  they  will 
remain  forever.  And,  sir,  where  American  liberty  raised  its  first 
voice,  and  where  its  youth  was  nurtured  and  sustained,  there  it 
6till  lives,  in  the  strength  of  its  manhood,  and  full  of  its  original 
spirit.  If  discord  and  disunion  shall  wound  it ;  if  party  strife 
and  blind  ambition  shall  hawk  at  and  tear  it;  if  folly  and  mad- 
ness, if  uneasiness  under  salutary  restraint,  shall  succeed  to 
separate  it  from  that  Union,  by  which  alone  its  existence  is  made 
?ure, —  it  will  stand,  in  the  end,  by  the  side  of  that  cradle  in  which 
its  infancy  was  rocked  ;  it  will  stretch  forth  its  arm,  with  what- 
ever of  vigor  it  may  still  retain,  over  the  friends  who  gathered 
around  it  ;  and  it  will  fall  at  last,  if  fall  it  must,  amid  the  proi.;d 
est  monuments  of  its  glory,  and  on  the  very  spot  of  its  origin. 

K* 


Z22  ROSS'S   SPEAKER. 


Parly  Spirit.  —  m.  b.  Lamah. 

Party  spirit  is  more  to  be  shunned  than  any  other  vice,  nol 
:m!y  for  its  disastrous  consequences,  but  because  of  the  prone- 
ness  of  nature  to  run  into  it.  We  are  all  more  or  less,  at  times, 
secretly  tinctured  with  the  feeling,  and  have  to  rise  superior  to 
it  by  the  force  of  reason  and  virtue :  he  will  not  be  able  to  do 
it  who  parleys  for  a  single  moment  with  his  duty.  The  vice  is 
a  deceitful  one.  It  often  wears  the  mask  of  patriotism  ;  and 
under  this  flattering  disguise,  it  wins  the  undiscerning  like  a  har- 
lot in  array. 

The  vicious  woo  it,  enamored  of  its  prostitutions,  whilst  many 
worthy  citizens  and  public  men  are  seduced  to  its  embraces 
from  its  outward  similitude  to  virtue.  But  no  matter  in  what 
bosom  it  finds  its  way  ;  or  in  what  assembly  it  may  prevail, 
wherever  it  strikes  its  poisonous  roots,  it  never  fails,  sooner  or 
later,  to  extirpate  every  virtuous  sentiment  and  generous  impulse. 

It  is  a  baneful  Upas,  that  permits  no  moral  flower  to  flourish 
in  its  shade.  The  individual  who  bows  to  its  dominion  can 
never  generate  a  noble  purpose  ;  the  politician  who  consults  its 
authority  is  recreant  to  liberty  ;  and  the  nation  that  shall  become 
drunk  with  its  infernal  fires  will  most  assuredly  forfeit  the  favor 
of  Heaven,  and  become  the  self-inflicter  of  a  righteous  punish- 
ment. Its  march  is  from  folly  to  madness,  from  madness  to 
crime,  from  crime  to  death.  Its  votaries  may  change  their 
livery,  but  to  be  a  violent  partisan  once  is  to  be  a  partisan  for 
life  ;  he  is  a  spell-bound  being,  whose  infatuations  may  drive 
him,  as  occasions  require,  from  turpitude  to  turpitude,  until  the 
very  blood  of  infancy  becomes  the  Falernian  of  his  revels. 

It  is  useless  to  confirm  these  truths  by  historical  example  ; 
for  what  is  all  history  but  a  record  of  the  bloody  march  of  fac- 
tion ?  Every  page  is  burdened  with  wars,  not  for  the  sacred 
liberties  of  man,  but  for  the  unhallowed  exaltation  of  contending 
aspirants.  Do  you  turn  to  the  ancient  mistress  of  the  world  ?  — 
where  is  the  patriot  that  doth  not  sigh  at  the  civil  strifes  that 
seated  Sylla  upon  bleeding  Rome,  and  his  rival  on  the  ruins  of 
Carthage  ?  Do  you  look  to  that  sea-encircled  nation  whose  re- 
sentful Roses  would  not  bloom  together  ?  —  who  doth  not  mark 
in  the  broils  of  York  and  Lancaster  a  melancholy  monument  of 
the  folly  and  madness  of  party  ? 

Or  will  you  turn  for  a  moment  to  that  lovely  region  of  the 
olive  and  the  vine,  where  the  valleys  are  all  smiling  and  the  peo- 
ple are  all  cheerful  ?  —  who  that  hath  a  spark  of  nature  in  hi* 


PARTY    SPIRIT.  223 

soul  doth  not  weep  at  the  horrid  atrocities  perpetrated  under  the 
in  me  of  liberty,  by  Robespierre  and  his  bloody  coadjutors,  dic- 
ing the  reign  of  the  Jacobin  faction  in  revolutionary  France  ? 
These  examples,  by  way  of  melancholy  warning,  may  serve  to 
show  the  unnatural  lengths  into  which  deluded  and  infatuated 
man  will  hurry  when  once  enlisted  under  the  proscriptive  ban- 
ner of  party. 


The  Same,  continued. 

If  any  other  exhibition  of  the  direful  effects  of  party  spirit  De 
wanting,  it  is  furnished  in  the  history  of  a  people  whose  career 
is  familiar  to  us  all.  Look  at  Mexico.  A  few  years  ago  she 
awoke  from  a  lethargy  of  centuries,  and  in  the  majesty  of  eight 
millions  of  people,  shook  Castilian  bondage  from  her,  like  il  dew 
drops  from  a  lion's  mane."  But  see  her  now  —  the  miserable 
victim  of  self-oppression  and  debasement ;  torn  to  pieces  by 
civil  discord  ;  bleeding  at  every  pore  by  party  rage  ;  her  re- 
sources exhausted,  her  strength  defied,  and  her  very  name 
despised.  These  are  the  bitter  fruits  of  that  dreadful  mania 
which  makes  a  whole  people  offer  up,  at  the  shrine  of  dema- 
gogues, that  devotion  and  sacrifice  which  is  due  alone  to  their 
country. 

Mexico  had  the  chivalry  to  conquer,  without  virtue  to  profit 
by  it.  Her  patriots  achieved  independence,  and  demagogues 
ruined  her  hopes.  Enemy  as  she  is  to  us,  I  am  not  a  foe  to 
her  freedom  ;  for  next  to  the  safety  and  welfare  of  my  own 
land,  I  should  rejoice  to  see  our  free  principles  and  liberal 
institutions  ingrafted  into  her  government,  so  that  they  might 
finally  spread  their  benign  influence  over  the  whole  continent 
of  America. 

Once  we  had  the  promise  of  this  in  the  opening  career  of  a 
bold  champion  of  freedom,  who,  sick  of  the  woes  of  his  distracted 
country,  called  upon  the  virtuous  of  all  parties  to  unite  with  him 
in  the  expulsion  of  faction,  and  in  the  chastisement  of  a  bloated 
priesthood.  He  published  to  his  countrymen  a  system  of  gov- 
ernment which  promised  order,  stability,  and  safety.  It  was 
received  with  acclamation.  Thousands  gathered  round  his 
standard.  They  came  with  high  hopes  and  devoted  hearts. 
The  cannon  soon  spoke  upon  the  mountains,  and  the  enemies 
of  order  trembled.  Foes  fled  before  him  —  Rebellion  hid  his 
head,  and  even  audacious  Bigotry  quailed  in  the  glance  of  his 
eye.  He  was  born  to  command  ;  and  all  voices  hailed  him  the 
savior  of  his  country. 


224  ROSS'S   SPEAKER. 

But  mark  the  sequel.  No  sooner  was  he  firmly  planted  ir. 
power,  the  idol  of  the  people,  with  every  obstacle  removed 
to  the  introduction  of  his  new  order  of  things,  all  eyes  expecting 
and  all  hearts  desiring  it,  when,  lo !  the  veil  —  the  silver  veil 
—  was  drawn  aside,  and  instead  of  the  mild  features  of  the  pat- 
riot, the  foul  visage  of  Mokanna,  with  its  terrific  deformity, 
burst  upon  the  astonished  nation,  and  "  grinned  horribly  a 
ghastly  smile." 

And  did  not  a  thousand  weapons  leap  indignantly  from  their 
scabbards  to  avenge  such  perfidy  ?  No,  surely.  His  duped  and 
deluded  followers  "  dropp'd  some  n:  ural  tears,  but  wiped  them 
soon  ;  "  and  instead  of  seeking  merited  vengeance,  became  more 
wedded  to  the  traitor ;  so  that  he  still  went  on,  conquering  and 
to  conquer,  until  he  waved  his  banner  over  bleeding  Zacatecas, 
and  stamped,  in  the  burning  characters  of  hell,  his  eternal  shame 
on  the  walls  of  Bexar. 

And  do  you  ask  the  moral  of  this  tale  ?  The  discerning  mind 
will  read  in  it  the  awful  truth  —  that  party  is  as  cruel  as  the 
grave  ;  that  its  bonds  are  as  strong  as  death ;  that  there  is  no 
receding  from  its  unhallowed  infatuations,  and  that  he  who  enrolls 
his  name  under  its  bloody  flag  divorces  himself  from  humanity, 
and  forever  sells  his  soul  to  the  powers  of  darkness. 


Party  Spirit.  —  Hejotb.  clay, 

I  have  seen  many  periods  of  great  anxiety,  of  peril,  and  of 
danger  in  this  country,  but  I  have  never  before  risen  to  address 
any  assemblage,  so  oppressed,  so  appalled,  and  so  anxious.  And 
I  hope  it  will  not  be  out  of  place  to  do  here  what  I  have  done 
again  and  again  in  my  private  chamber  —  to  implore  Him  who 
holds  the  destinies  of  nations  and  individuals  in  his  hands,  to 
bestow  upon  our  country  his  blessing,  to  calm  the  violence  and 
rage  of  party,  to  still  passion,  to  allow  reason  once  more  to  re- 
sume its  empire.  And  may  I  not  also  ask  Him  to  bestow  upon 
his  humble  servant  the  blessing  of  his  smiles,  and  strength  and 
ability  to  perform  the  work  which  now  lies  before  him  ? 

If  I  should  venture  to  trace  the  cause  of  our  present  dangers, 
difficulties,  and  distractions  to  its  original  source,  I  should  ascribe 
it  to  the  violence  and  intemperance  of  party  spirit.  I  know  the 
jealousies,  the  fears,  and  the  apprehensions  which  are  engen- 
dered by  it ;  but  if  there  be  in  my  hearing  now,  or  out  of  this 
Capitol,  any  one  who  hopes,  in  his  race  for  honors  and  elevation 


THE    .MOTHER   OF   WASHINGTON.  225 

for  higher  honors  and  higher  elevation  than  that  he  maj  now 
occupy,  I  beg  him  to  believe  that  I  will  never  jostle  him  ii  the 
pursuit  of  those  honors  or  that  elevation.  I  assure  him,  ii'  my 
wishes  prevail,  my  name  shall  never  be  used  in  competition  with 
his  ;  for  when  my  service  is  terminated  in  this  body,  my  mission, 
so  far  as  respects  the  public  affairs  of  this  world,  is  closed  —  and 
closed  forever- 
It  is  impossible  for  us  not  to  perceive  that  party  spirit  and 
future  elevation  mix  more  or  less  in  all  our  affairs,  in  ai  our 
deliberations.  At  a  moment  when  the  White  House  is  in  da.  ger 
of  conflagration,  instead  of  all  hands  uniting  to  extinguisi.  the 
flames,  we  are  contending  about  who  shall  be  its  next  occupant. 
It  is  passion  and  party  spirit  which  I  dread  in  the  adjustment 
of  the  great  questions  which  unhappily,  at  this  time,  divide  our 
distracted  country.  Two  months  ago,  all  was  calm,  in  compari- 
son to  the  present  moment.  Now,  all  is  uproar  and  confusion, 
and  menace  to  the  existence  of  the  Union,  and  to  the  happiness 
and  safety  of  this  people. 

I  entreat  you,  by  all  you  expect  hereafter,  and  by  all  that  is 
clear  to  you  here  below,  to  repress  the  ardor  of  these  passions,  to 
3ubdue  the  violence  of  party  spirit,  to  listen  to  the  voice  of  reason 
and  look  to  the  interests  of  your  country. 


The  Mother  of  Washington. -Mm  siooumcm. 

Long  hast  thou  slept  unnoted !     Nature  stole 

In  her  soft  ministry  around  thy  bed, 

And  spread  her  vernal  coverings,  violet-gemmed, 

And  pearled  with  dews.     She  bade  bright  Summer  bring 

Gifts  of  frankincense,  with  sweet  song  of  birds 

And  Autumn  cast  his  yellow  coronet 

Down  at  thy  feet,  —  and  stormy  Winter  speak 

Hoarsely  of  man's  neglect. 

But  now  we  come 
To  do  thee  homage,  mother  of  our  chief!  — 
Fit  homage  —  such  as  honoreth  him  who  pays. 

Methinks  we  see  thee,  as  in  olden  time, — 
Simple  in  garb  —  majestic  and  serene  — 
Unawed  by  "  pomp  and  circumstance  " —  in  truth 
Inflexible,  —  and  with  a  Spartan  zeal 
Repressing  Vice,  and  making  Folly  grave. 
15 


'WG  ROSS'S   SPEAKER. 

T%om  didst  not  deem  it  woman's  part  to  waste 
Life  in  inglorious  sloth,  to  sport  a  while 
Amid  the  flowers,  or  on  the  summer  wave, 
Then  fleet  like  the  ephemeron  away, — 
Building  no  temple  in  her  children's  hearts, 
Save  to  the  vanity  and  pride  of  life, 
Which  she  had  worshiped. 

Of  the  might  that  clothed 
The  "  Pater  Patriae,"  —  of  the  deeds  that  won 
A  nation's  liberty,  and  earth's  applause, 
Making  Mount  Vernon's  tomb  a  Mecca  haunt 
For  patriot  and  for  sage,  while  time  shall  last,  — 
What  part  was  thine,  what  thanks  to  thee  are  due 
Who,  'mid  his  elements  of  being,  wrought 
With  no  uncertain  aim  —  nursing  the  germs 
Of  godlike  Virtue  in  his  infant  mind, 
We  knoic  not  —  Heaven  can  tell. 

Rise,  noble  pile, 
And  show  a  race  unborn  who  rests  below, 
And  say  to  mothers,  what  a  holy  charge 
Is  theirs  —  with  what  a  kingly  power  their  love 
Might  rule  the  fountains  of  the  new-born  mind  — 
Warn  them  to  wake  at  early  dawn,  and  sow 
Good  seed  before  the  world  doth  sow  its  tares, 
Nor  in  their  toil  decline,  —  that  angel  hands 
May  put  the  sickle  in,  and  reap  for  God, 
And  gather  to  his  garner. 

Ye,  who  stand, 
With  thrilling  breast  and  kindling  cheek,  this  moit 
Viewing  the  tribute  that  Virginia  pays 
To  the  blest  mother  of  her  glorious  chief, 
Ye,  whose  last  thought  upon  your  nightly  couch, 
Whose  first  at  waking,  is  your  cradled  son  — 
What  though  no  dazzling  hope  aspires  to  rear 
A  second  Washington,  —  or  leave  your  name 
Wrought  out  in  marble  with  your  country's  tears 
Of  deathless  gratitude,  —  yet  may  ye  raise 
A  monument  above  the  stars  —  a  soul 
Led  by  your  teachings  and  your  prayers  to  God 


THE   LONE    STAR   OF   TEXAS.  227 


The  Lone  Star  of  Texas.  —  Webb. 

The  brilliancy  of  its  dawn  gives  token  of  a  bright  and  glorious 
future.  What  eye  that  beheld  that  star  arise  but  became  ani- 
mated and  fired  in  the  gaze  upon  its  transcendent  beauty,  itt- 
wavering  light,  its  divine  struggles  to  gleam  in  the  ascendant  * 
Its  feeble  glimmer  was  first  discerned  amid  the  storm  and  tern 
pest :  occasionally,  as  the  wrathful  clouds  would  separate,  its 
faint  ray  of  youthful  light  and  hope  would  dart  forth,  sprinkling, 
as  with  "the  roseate  blush  of  morn,  the  thick  panoply  of  surround- 
in"-  Moom,  and  finding  its  way  to  the  deep  recesses  of  many  a 
patriot  bosom.  The  thunder  of  tyranny  and  the  storms  of 
oppression  being  well  nigh  exhausted,  this  bright  and  beautiful, 
this  lone  star  was  seen  standing  out  upon  the  broad  and  silvery 
heaven  of  Texas,  in  solitary  but  bold  relief. 

No  sister  star  was  near  to  lend  the  light  of  her  countenance, 
or  greet  it  with  an  approving  smile.  Not  a  beam  which  ema- 
nated from  its  effulgence  was  borrowed  :  not  a  ray  of  light  did 
it  cast  over  a  benighted  land,  but  was  given  forth  from  its  own 
brilliant  and  exhaustless  orbit.  Brighter  and  purer  did  it  shine 
as  it  continued  to  rise  and  mount  into  the  high  heaven  of  hope 
and  promise,  but  not  without  sometimes  almost  failing  to  give 
token  of  its  presence  ;  it  flickered,  as  with  expiring  energy,  over 
the  fierce  and  unequal  conflict  at  Conception  ;  it  was  seen  faintly 
glimmering  over  the  gory  plain  of  Goliad,  and  sending  out  the 
last  ray  of  its  hope  upon  the  awful  scene  of  the  Alamo. 

It  moved  despondingly  through  all  these  scenes  of  bloody 
strife,  presided  at  each  mortal  combat,  cheered  the  weak  and 
despairing,  and  shone  with  fearful  dimness  in  that  hour,  when 
the  light  of  mortality  of  a  Fannin  and  his  brave  companions  was 
surrounded  in  the  night  of  eternal  infamy.  Rut  lo !  where  next 
doth  gleam  this  single  star  ?  Over  the  immortal  struggle  of 
San  Jacinto  it  hangs  suspended ;  its  light  has  relumed  ;  its  rays 
enkindlr;  with  a  sweeter,  brighter,  more  entrancing  fire;  the 
battle  rages  ;  the  fight  is  desperate,  deadly  ;  the  neighing  of  the 
war  steed,  the  groaning  of  the  dying  soldier,  the  piercing,  star- 
tling, enthusiastic  cry  of"  Remember  the  Alamo,"  all  went  up  to 
heaven  in  a  solemn  league,  and  as  they  passed  away,  "  the  lone 
star  of  Texas"  blazed  forth  in  resplendent  beauty  and  brightness, 
reflecting  all  over  the  consecrated  ground  of  Jacinto  a  light  in 
which  was  seen  written  in  blazing  capitals,  Victory !  Liberty ! 
Texas  is  free  / 


228  ROSS'S   SPEAKER. 


Classics.  —  De.  Church. 

Perm  t  me  on  this  occasion  to  call  your  attention  to  one  study 
which  you  may  possibly  be  disposed  to  relinquish,  or  to  consider 
less  worthy  your  attention  than  others.  Continue  to  cultivate  a 
taste  for  classical  learning.  Lay  not  aside  those  inimitable 
'incient  authors,  who  have  formed  the  tastes  and  constituted  the 
models  of  the  first  minds  which  have  adorned  and  blessed  the 
world.  The  mere  superficial  scholar  may  doubt  their  utility. 
He  who  has  never  discovered  their  beauties  may  assert  that  they 
have  none. 

And  so  may  thousands,  who  attempt  to  gather  gold  from  the 
surface  of  your  mountains,  or  to  glean  a  few  particles  which 
have  been  deposited  in  your  valleys,  assert  that  there  are  not  rich 
exhaustless  stores  within  the  reach  of  patient  perseverance  and 
untiring  labor.  If  experience  have  any  authority,  the  study  of 
ancient  literature  is  not  useless,  and  the  time  devoted  to  the 
acquisition  of  classical  learning,  instead  of  being  wasted,  is  most 
profitably  spent. 

Who  have  done  most  honor  to  themselves,  as  well  as  been 
most  useful  to  their  fellow-men,  in  the  learned  professions  ?  Who 
have  stood  with  faithfulness  at  the  helm  of  state,  and  guided  with 
most  wisdom  and  success  the  destinies  of  nations  ?  What  mod- 
ern historians  are  read  with  most  pleasure  and  with  most  profit  ? 
and  whose  writings  now  form  our  standard  works  of  taste  ? 

To  show  the  value  of  classical  learning  to  the  public  speaker, 
we  need  only  refer  to  the  history  of  modern  eloquence.  With 
what  ease  did  the  classic  Emmet  rivet  the  attention  and  excite 
the  admiration  of  his  audience  !  With  what  magic  spell  did  the 
classic  quotations  and  allusions  of  Randolph  drop  from  his  lips ! 
and  with  what  agony  did  his  opponents  often  writhe  beneath 
that  lash  which  the  polished  Greek  and  the  enlightened  Roman 
had  put  into  his  hands !  Few  mental  exercises  are,  perhaps, 
more  profitable  to  the  student  than  the  critical  study  of  the 
Greek  and  Roman  classics  ;  and  so  numerous  are  the  allusions 
to  these,  in  even  English  literature,  that  many  of  its  finest  por- 
tions and  most  exquisite  beauties  must  be  measurably  lost  to  him 
who  understands  not  the  ancient  languages. 


NEW  ORLEANS.  229 


Industry.  —  Lumpkik. 

To  live  in  such  a  world  and  age  as  this  brings  with  it  immense 
obligations  —  a  world  redeemed  with  the  blood  of  the  Son  01 
God  ;  an  age  which  prophets  and  patriarchs  desired  to  see,  bui 
died  without  the  sight ;  a  spot  of  time  most  interesting  in  the  eye 
of  Heaven,  and  which,  beyond  any  past  period,  has  witnessed 
the  most  splendid  achievements  of  mind  over  matter.  You  stand, 
as  it  were,  under  an  opening  heaven,  by  the  tomb  of  a  world 
rising  from  the  slumber  of  ages.  Can  any  be  stupid,  be  half 
awake,  in  such  a  day  ?  Stand  erect,  I  entreat  you.  Let  every 
nerve,  mental  and  bodily,  be  strung  to  action.  Give  your  days 
and  nights  to  labor  and  study. 

Soon  you  will  be  ranked  among  the  legislators,  magistrates, 
or  interpreters  of  the  laws  or  religion  of  your  country.  With 
what  diligence,  in  this  spring  season  of  life,  should  you  prepare 
yourselves  for  the  faithful  discharge  of  offices  so  arduous  and 
important !  Shall  indolence,  or  the  degrading  love  of  ease  and 
pleasure,  like  a  blighting  mildew,  blast  your  improvement  in  the 
bud,  destroy  the  fond  hopes  of  parents  and  friends,  and  the  specu- 
lations of  your  country  ?  Rest  assured  that,  without  patient  in- 
dustry, the  greatest  talents  and  advantages  will  be  fruitless. 
Look  to  the  Platos  and  Ciceros  of  antiquity,  the  Boyles,  New- 
tons,  and  Lockes  of  modern  times  ;  and  they  all,  with  one  accord, 
will  tell  you  that  industry  was  the  secret  by  which  they  were 
enabled  to  perform  such  wonders. 


New   Orleans.  —  J.  N.  Mappit 

Along  the  streets  of  the  city  of  peace  and  commerce  no 
tyrant  king  ever  thunders  with  subject  monarchs  chained  to  his 
wheel ;  he  brings  no  curse  upon  her  busy  streets  from  the  ago- 
nizing groans  of  widowed  and  orphaned  millions.  Here  all  is 
life,  activity,  generous  excitement,  the  rivalry  of  benevolence, 
and  the  proudest  triumphs  of  mind. 

Such  is  New  Orleans.  The  din  of  commerce  rolls  along  her 
streets  by  night  and  by  day,  as  the  voice  of  many  waters.  She 
sits  as  a  queen  upon  her  alluvial  Delta,  and  the  proud,  deep  Gulf 
of  Mexico,  like  a  monarch's  bowl  at  a  feast,  pours  the  rushing 
libations  of  its  tides  at  her  feet  She  reaches  one  arm  and  em- 
braces the  Rocky  Mountains,  while  with  the  other  she  plays  with 


230  ROSS'S   SPEAKER. 

the  silver  lakes  of  tne  north.  She  sends  her  couriers  ever  the 
sounding  seas,  and  every  gale  under  heaven  kisses  her  whitening 
sails,  and  'aughs  through  the  cordage  of  her  laden  ships. 

We  stand  near  the  consecrated  ground  over  which  hung  the 
cloud,  and  along  which  roared  the  iron  storm  of  battle.  The 
unconquered,  the  unpillaged  city  is  around  ;  her  towers  are  un 
scathed ;  the  columns  that  deployed  down  on  yonder  plain  are 
now  in  the  world  of  spirits ;  and  memory  and  generous  feelings 
of  humanity  spread  the  pall  of  oblivion  over  the  prostrate,  hum- 
bled foe.  Never  again  shall  the  foot  of  violence  tread  the  soil 
defended  by  the  veterans  of  the  eighth  of  January.  Taught  by 
a  lesson  forever  emblazoned  on  the  parchment  of  historic  fame, 
the  warriors  of  other  lands  shall  avoid  the  grave  of  British  valor, 
and  offer  no  violence  to  the  metropolis  of  the  western  world,  as 
she  gathers  her  future  power  and  splendor  around  her. 

I  am  not  a  visionary;  yet  when  I  look  forward  into  the  future, 
I  am  astonished  at  what  severe  probability  unfolds  as  the  desti- 
nies of  this  city  of  the  South.  I  strain  my  aching  eyes  to  catch 
the  far  off  frontiers  of  the  great  vale,  through  which  the  Father 
of  Waters  rolls  his  majestic  flood  in  turbid  grandeur ;  but  it  is 
too  far  for  the  vision  of  man.  I  exhaust  horizon  after  horizon, 
and  yet  the  end  is  not.  Thousands  of  miles  away,  to  the  right 
and  to  the  left,  I  see  every  leaping  rill  that  comes  laughing  down 
the  sides  of  the  mountains  pointing  its  way,  laden  with  all  that 
agriculture  can  create,  or  commerce  ask  for,  toward  this  city. 
Hills  as  far  distant  from  each  other  as  the  midnight  from  the 
sunrise,  pay  their  tribute  of  bright  waters  to  the  ocean's  eldest 
born,  whose  last  deep  tone  of  inland  music  rolls  like  the  muffled 
drums  of  a  solemn  pageant  in  the  ears  of  this  vast  city.  Des- 
tined to  realize  more  of  the  actual  efficacy  of  wealth  and  moral 
power  than  the  hundred-gated  Thebes  of  olden  time,  or  that 
proud  city  whose  ruins  strew  the  Delta  of  the  Nile,  —  the  Alex- 
andria that  was,  —  the  New  Orleans  of  the  new  world  shall  first 
conquer  the  diseases  of  climate,  as  she  conquered  the  quondam 
invaders  of  Peninsular  Europe ;  and  then,  as  she  has  braved  the 
overflow  of  the  king  of  rivers,  and  rolled  back  his  floods,  so  shall 
her  arm  of  power  rear  her  thousand  edifices  of  splendor  and 
luxury,  and  at  the  same  time  the  solemn  temples  sacred  to 
eternity 


THE   LOSS   OF  NATIONAL   CHARACTER.  ^31 


150    On  the  Adoption  of  the   Constitution.  —  E.  Randolpr 

I  have  labored  for  the  continuance  of  the  Union  —  the  rock  of 
our  salvation.  I  believe  that  as  sure  as  there  is  a  God  in  heave*i 
our  safety,  our  political  happiness  and  existence,  depend  on  the 
union  of  the  states ;  and  that,  without  this  union,  the  people  of 
this  and  the  other  states  will  undergo  the  unspeakable  calamities 
which  discord,  faction,  turbulence,  war,  and  bloodshed  have  pro- 
duced in  other  countries.  The  American  spirit  ought  to  be 
mixed  with  American  pride  —  pride  to  see  the  union  magnifi- 
cently triumphant. 

Let  that  glorious  pride  which  once  defied  the  British  thundci 
reanimate  you.  Let  it  not  be  recorded  of  Americans,  that, 
after  having  performed  the  most  gallant  exploits,  after  having 
overcome  the  most  astonishing  difficulties,  and  after  having  gained 
the  admiration  of  the  world  by  their  imcomparable  valor  and 
policy,  they  lost  their  acquired  reputation,  their  national  conse- 
quence and  happiness,  by  their  own  indiscretion.  Let  no  future 
historian  inform  posterity  that  they  wanted  wisdom  and  virtue  to 
concur  in  any  regular,  efficient  government.  Should  any  writer, 
doomed  to  so  disagreeable  a  task,  feel  the  indignation  of  an  hon- 
est historian,  he  would  reprehend  and  recriminate  our  folly  with 
equal  severity  and  justice. 

Catch  the  present  moment ;  seize  it  with  avidity  and  eagerness, 
for  it  may  be  lost  never  to  be  regained.  If  the  union  be  now 
lost,  I  fear  it  may  remain  so  forever.  I  believe  gentlemen  are 
sincere  in  their  opposition,  and  actuated  by  pure  motives ;  but 
when  1  maturely  weigh  the  advantages  of  the  union,  and  dreadful 
consequences  of  its  dissolution  ;  when  I  see  safety  on  my  right, 
and  destruction  on  my  left  ;  when  I  behold  respectability  and 
happiness  acquired  by  the  one,  but  annihilated  by  the  other, — 
.  cannot  hesitate  to  decide  in  favor  of  the  former. 


The  Loss  of  National   Character.  —  Maxby. 

The  loss  of  a  firm  national  character,  or  the  degradation  of  a 
nation's  honor,  is  the  inevitable  prelude  to  her  destruction.  Be- 
hold the  once  proud  fabric  of  a  Roman  ompire —  an  empire 
carrying  its  arts  and  arms  into  every  part  of  the  eastern  conti- 
nent ;  the  monarchs  of  mighty  kingdoms  dragged  at  the  wheels 
of  her  triumphal  chariots;   hrr  eagle  waving  over  the  ruins  of 


232  ROSS'S  SPEAKER. 

desoiated  countries.  Where  are  her  splendor,  her  wealth  her 
power,  her  glory  ?  Extinguished  forever.  Her  mouldering 
temples,  the  mournful  vestiges  of  her  former  grandeur,  afford  a 
shelter  to  her  muttering  monks.  Where  are  her  statesmen,  her 
sages,  her  philosophers,  her  orators,  her  generals  ?  Go  to  their 
solitary  tombs  and  inquire.  She  lost  her  national  character,  and 
her  destruction  followed.  The  ramparts  of  her  national  pride 
were  broken  down,  and  Vandalism  desolated  her  classic  fields. 

Citizens  will  lose  their  respect  and  confidence  in  our  govern- 
ment, if  it  does  not  extend  over  them  the  shield  of  an  honorable 
national  character.  Corruption  will  creep  in  and  sharpen  party 
animosity.  Ambitious  leaders  will  seize  upon  the  favorable  mo- 
ment. The  mad  enthusiasm  for  revolution  will  call  into  action 
the  irritated  spirit  of  our  nation,  and  civil  war  must  follow.  The 
swords  of  our  countrymen  may  yet  glitter  on  our  mountains, 
their  blood  may  yet  crimson  our  plains.  Such,  the  warning 
voice  of  all  antiquity,  the  example  of  all  republics,  proclaim,  may 
be  our  fate.  But  let  us  no  longer  indulge  these  gloomy  antici- 
pations. The  commencement  of  our  liberty  presages  the  dawn 
of  a  brighter  period  to  the  world.  That  bold,  enterprising  spirit 
which  conducted  our  heroes  to  peace  and  safety,  and  gave  us  a 
lofty  rank  amid  the  empires  of  the  world,  still  animates  the  bo- 
soms of  their  descendants. 

Look  back  to  the  moment  when  they  unbarred  the  dungeons 
of  the  slave,  and  dashed  his  fetters  to  the  earth  ;  when  the  sword 
of  a  Washington  leaped  from  its  scabbard  to  revenge  the  slaugh- 
ter of  our  countrymen.  Place  their  example  before  you.  Let 
the  sparks  of  their  veteran  wisdom  flash  across  your  minds,  ana 
the  sacred  altars  of  your  liberty,  crowned  with  immortal  honors, 
rise  before  you.  Relying  on  the  virtue,  the  courage,  the  patri- 
otism, and  the  strength  of  our  country,  we  may  expect  our  na» 
tional  character  will  become  more  energetic,  our  citizens  more 
enlightened,  and  may  hail  the  age  as  not  far  distant,  when  will  be 
heard,  as  the  proudest  exclamation  of  man  —  I  am  an  American 


Influence  of  National  Glory.  —Clay. 

We  are  asked,  What  have  we  gained  by  the  war  ?  I  have 
shown  that  we  have  lost  nothing  in  rights  territory,  or  honor  ; 
nothing  for  which  we  ought  to  have  contended,  according  to  the 
principles  of  the  gentlemen  on  the  other  side,  or  according  to 
our  own.     Have  we  gained  nothing  by  the  war?     Let  any  i*at 


INFLUENCE   OF  NATIONAL   GLORTt.  233 

look  at  the  degraded  condition  of  this  country  before  the  war,  — 
the  scorn  of  the  universe,  the  contempt  of  ourselves,  —  and  tell  mo 
if  we  have  gained  nothing  by  the  war.  What  is  our  present 
situation  ?  Respectability  and  character  abroad,  security  and 
confidence  at  home.  If  we  have  not  obtained,  in  the  opinion  of 
some,  the  full  measure  of  retribution,  our  character  and  consti- 
tution are  placed  on  a  solid  basis,  never  to  be  shaken. 

The  glory  acquired  by  our  gallant  tars,  by  our  Jacksons  and 
our  Browns  on  the  land  —  is  that  nothing  ?  True,  we  had  our 
vicissitudes ;  there  were  humiliating  events  which  the  patriot 
can  not  review  without  deep  regret ;  but  the  great  account,  when 
it  comes  to  be  balanced,  will  be  found  vastly  in  our  favor.  Is 
there  a  man  who  would  obliterate  from  the  proud  pages  of  our 
history  the  brilliant  achievements  of  Jackson,  Brown,  and  Scott, 
and  the  host  of  heroes  on  land  and  sea,  whom  I  can  not  enu- 
merate ?  Is  there  a  man  who  could  not  desire  a  participation  in 
the  national  glory  acquired  by  the  war  ?  Yes,  national  glory, 
which,  however  the  expression  may  be  condemned  by  some, 
must  be  cherished  by  every  genuine  patriot. 

What  do  I  mean  by  national  glory  ?  Glory  such  as  Hull, 
Jackson,  and  Perry  have  acquired.  And  are  gentlemen  insen- 
sible to  their  deeds,  to  the  value  of  them  in  animating  the  coun- 
try in  the  hour  of  peril  hereafter  ?  Did  the  battle  of  Thermopylae 
preserve  Greece  but  once  ?  Whilst  the  Mississippi  continues  to 
bear  the  tributes  of  the  Iron  Mountains  and  the  Alleghanies  to 
her  Delta  and  to  the  Gulf  of  Mexico,  the  eighth  of  January  shall 
be  remembered,  and  the  glory  of  that  day  shall  stimulate  future 
patriots,  and  nerve  the  arms  of  unborn  freemen  in  driving  the 
presumptuous  invader  from  our  country's  soil. 

Gentlemen  may  boast  of  their  insensibility  to  feelings  inspired 
by  the  contemplation  of  such  events.  But  I  would  ask,  Does  the 
recollection  of  Bunker's  Hill,  Saratoga,  and  Yorktown  afford 
them  no  pleasure  ?  Every  act  of  noble  sacrifice  to  the  country, 
every  instance  of  patriotic  devotion  to  her  cause,  has  its  bene- 
ficial influence.  A  nation's  character  is  the  sum  of  its  splendid 
deeds ;  they  constitute  one  common  patrimony,  the  nation's 
inheritance.  They  awe  foreign  powers ;  they  arouse  and  ani- 
mate our  own  people.  I  love  true  glory.  It  is  this  sentiment 
which  ought  to  be  cherished ;  and,  in  spite  of  cavils,  and  sneers, 
and  attempts  to  put  it  down,  it  will  finally  conduct  this  nation  to 
rhat  hight  to  which  God  and  Nature  have  destined  it. 


234  ROSS'S  SFEAKEJL 


War  with  Frmce.  —  Jomt  J.  Crittbndbh. 

I  agree  with  the  honorable  senator  that  France  owes  ua 
twenty-five  millions  of  francs,  and  that  she  assigns  an  insufficient 
reason  for  withholding  payment.  But  this  is  the  whole  head  and 
front  of  her  offending.  We  have  no  other  complaint  against  her. 
Would  it  be  expedient  and  proper  for  us  to  make  war  for  such  a 
cause  ?  There  is  no  other  cause  of  complaint  on  our  part. 
France  has  in  no  way  offended  against  us  on  this  occasion,  except 
only  by  her  failure  to  pay  the  money  in  question.  Shall  we  go 
to  war  to  enforce  its  payment  ? 

It  is  needless  to  discuss  the  question.  Thank  God,  the  danger 
of  this  war  has  passed  by,  and  we  have,  as  I  believe,  an  almost 
certain  assurance  of  reconciliation  and  peace  with  France.  Such 
an  issue  of  this  controversy  can  not  be  regarded  otherwise  than 
as  a  matter  of  public  congratulation.  If  war  had  been  its  result, 
I  should  have  contributed  all  that  was  in  my  humble  power  to 
render  my  country  successful  in  that  war.  War  of  itself  would 
have  been  a  sufficient  reason  for  me  to  take  my  country's  side, 
without  reference  to  its  cause.  But,  sir,  I  must  confess  that  I 
should  have  been  most  loth  to  witness  any  such  war  as  that  with 
which  we  have  been  threatened. 

A  war  with  whom,  and  for  what  ?  A  war  with  France,  our 
first,  our  ancient  ally,  whose  blood  flowed  for  us,  and  with  our 
own,  in  the  great  struggle  that  gave  us  our  freedom  and  made 
us  a  nation.  A  war  for  money !  a  petty,  paltry  sum  of  money  ! 
I  know  of  no  instance,  certainly  none  among  the  civilized  nations 
of  modern  times,  of  a  war  waged  for  such  an  object ;  and  if  it  be 
among  the  legitimate  causes  of  war,  it  is  surely  the  most  inglo. 
rious  of  them  all.  It  can  afford  but  little  of  that  generous  inspi- 
ration which  in  a  noble  cause  gives  to  war  its  magnanimity  and 
:ts  glory.  War  for  money  must  ever  be  an  ignoble  strife.  On 
.ts  barren  fields  the  laurel  can  not  flourish.  In  the  sordid  contest 
but  little  honor  can  be  won,  and  Victory  herself  is  almost  despoiled 
if  her  triumph. 

If  we  should  attempt  by  war  to  compel  France  to  pay  the 
money  in  question,  none  who  know  the  two  nations  can  doubt 
but  the  contest  would  be  fierce,  bloody,  and  obstinate.  Suppose, 
however,  that  our  success  is  such  as  finally  to  enable  us  to  dic- 
tate terms  to  France,  and  to  oblige  her  to  pay  the  money.  Im- 
agine, Mr.  President,  that  the  little  purse,  the  prize  of  war  and 
carnage,  is  at  last  obtained.  There  it  is,  sir,  stained  with  the 
blood  of  Americans,  and  of  Frenchmen!  their  ancient  friends, 


TOE   UNION.  235 

Could  you,  sir,  behold  or  pocket  that  blood-stained  purse  withou 
some  emotions  of  pain  and  remorse  ? 


The     Union.  —  Andrew  P.  Butlbb. 

There  has  been  much  said  about  the  feeling  of  a  portion  of 
this  Union,  as  being  ready  to  dissolve  it.  I  am  not  to  be  terrified 
or  controlled  by  any  imputations  of  that  kind.  This  Union  has 
its  uses,  just  according  to  the  use  that  is  made  of  it.  It  may  be 
used  as  a  great  trust  to  effect  the  greatest  ends  that  time  ever 
committed  to  human  institutions ;  and  it  is  in  the  power  of 
patriots  and  statesmen  to  make  it  subserve  these  ends.  But 
when  it  shall  be  made  a  mere  instrument  of  partial  legislation, 
and  to  pander  to  the  views  and  ends  of  hypocritical  demagogues, 
it  will  cease  to  be  an  object  of  veneration,  unless  its  worshipers 
shall  be  like  those  of  .Juggernaut,  who  regard  it  as  a  pious 
service  to  prostrate  themselves  and  be  crushed  by  the  wheels  of 
his  car.  I  believe  I  am  one  of  its  real  friends,  and  the  charge 
of  criminal  design  upon  its  duration  comes  with  an  ill  grace  from 
those  who  have  adhered  to  selfish  and  unjust  purposes. 

Those  who  have  introduced  here  the  doctrines  which  we  aro 
called  upon  to  question  have  no  right  to  measure  the  extent  of 
my  opposition.  What  that  measure  will  be  I  do  not  know.  I 
am  willing  to  accede  to  any  peaceful  constitutional  measure 
which  will  tend  to  preserve  the  Union  itself;  these  means  may 
be  too  long  disregarded  ;  there  is  a  limit.  I  am  astonished  when 
I  hear  the  language  sometimes  used  by  the  representatives  from 
the  "old  thirteen ; "  from  Massachusetts,  Connecticut,  Rhode 
Island,  New  York,  and  New  Jersey,  making  war  upon  their 
brethren  of  the  southern  sections  of  the  Union,  which  seems  to 
me  but  the  policy  that  results  in  their  own  suicide.  They  give 
way  to  these  wild,  fanatical  suggestions  of  policy  in  disregard  of 
those  admonitions  which  should  address  themselves  to  them  from 
their  past  history,  as  well  as  in  view  of  their  future  destiny. 
They  arc  waging  a  war  against  their  interest,  under  the  influence 
of  feelings  which  were  inculcated  by  their  ancestors,  and  sowing 
the  seeds  of  disunion. 

I  have  said  what  I  designed  to  say  at  this  time ;  but  with  a  1 
would,  if  I  dared,  make  a  suggestion  to  the  administration,  which 
has  now,  in  a  measure,  the  control  of  the  destinies  of  this  country  ; 
ami  it  would  he.  thai  they  should  not  experiment  upon  the  disaf- 
fection which  exists  in  one  portion  of  this  Union.     I  know,  sir,  it 


2»6  ROSS'S   SPEAKER. 

is  deeper,  far  deeper,  than  has  ever  been  exhibited  on  this  floor. 
I  fear  it  has  been  too  much  disguised.  And  it  is  not  confinsd  to 
South  Carolina,  as  some  seem  to  consider.  Some  would  be  glad 
to  see  her  isolated  from  others,  and  thereby  made  an  easier 
victim.  The  people  of  other  southern  states  are  speaking  out, 
and  if  events  are  not  arrested,  there  will  be  but  one  voice,  and 
that  voice  will  come  from  the  mass  of  the  people.  The  press 
and  politicians  can  not  much  longer  delude  them.  What  state 
may  be  the  first  to  be  involved  in  measures  of  resistance  I  know 
not.  South  Carolina  has  sometimes  cried  out  as  a  sentinel.  But 
there  are  others  having  greater  interests  at  stake,  and  which  will 
be  put  ultimately  in  great  danger.  They  will  look  to  their 
security  and  interests,  and  all  will  move  as  one  man.  It  is  for 
those  who  have  the  destinies  of  this  nation  in  their  hands  to  say 
how  far  they  will  respect  the  feelings  of  the  South. 


The  Union.  —  d.  8.  diomnsow. 

But  a  few  days  since,  I  visited  the  hall  where  the  immortal 
Washington,  after  carving  out  the  liberty  which  we,  in  common 
with  twenty-five  mdlions  of  our  fellow -beings,  this  day  enjoy, 
with  a  victorious,  yet  unpaid  army,  who  adored  him,  under  his 
command,  surrendered  his  commission  and  his  sword  voluntarily 
to  the  representatives  of  a  few  exhausted  colonies.  That  sublime 
occasion  yet  imparts  its  sacred  influences  to  the  place,  and  there 
is  eloquence  in  its  silent  walls.  But  where,  said  I,  are  the  brave 
and  patriotic  spirits  who  here  fostered  the  germ  of  this  mighty 
empire  ?  Alas  !  they  have  gone  to  their  rewards,  and  the  clods 
of  the  valley  lie  heavily  on  their  hearts  ;  while  we,  their  ungrate- 
ful children,  with  every  element  of  good  before  us,  forgetting  the 
mighty  sacrifices  they  made  for  their  descendants,  trifle  with  the 
rich  blessings  we  inherited,  and  are  ready,  with  sacrilegious 
hands,  to  despoil  the  temple  of  liberty  which  they  reared  by 
years  of  toil  and  trial,  and  cemented  in  blood  and  tears.  O, 
could  we  not  have  deferred  this  inhuman  struggle  until  the 
departure  from  amongst  us  of  the  revolutionary  soldier,  with  his 
bowed  and  tottering  frame,  and  his  once  bright  eye  dimmed  ? 
Ask  him  the  cost  of  liberty,  and  he  will  "  shoulder  his  crutch 
and  show  how  fields  were  won,"  and  tell  you  of  its  priceless 
value. 

And  yet  we  are  shamelessly  struggling  in  his  sight,  like  mer- 
cenary chi.dren,  for  the  patrimony,  around  the  death  bed  of  * 


THE    UNION.  231 

common  parent,  by  whose  industry  and  exertion  it  was  accumu- 
lated, before  the  heart  of  him  who  gave  them  existence  had 
ceased  to  pulsate.  Amid  all  these  conflicts,  it  has  been  my 
policy  to  give  peace  and  stability  to  the  Union,  to  silence  agita- 
tion, to  restore  fraternal  relations  to  an  estranged  brotherhood, 
and  to  lend  my  feeble  aid  in  enabling  our  common  country  to 
march  onward  to  the  glorious  fruition  which  awaits  her.  I  have 
opposed,  and  will  hereafter  oppose,  the  monster  disunion,  in  any 
and  every  form,  and  howsoever  disguised,  or  in  whatsoever  con- 
dition —  whether  in  the  germ,  or  the  stately  upas,  with  its  wide- 
spread branches  ;  whether  it  comes  from  the  North  or  the  South, 
or  the  East  or  the  West ;  and  whether  it  consists  in  denying  the 
South  her  jst  rights,  or  in  her  demanding  that  to  which  she  is 
not  entitled.  The  union  of  these  states,  in  the  true  spirit  of  the 
constitution,  is  a  sentiment  of  my  life.  It  was  the  dream  of  my 
early  years  ;  it  has  been  the  pride  and  joy  of  manhood  ;  and,  if 
it  shall  please  Heaven  to  spare  me  to  age,  I  pray  that  ks  abiding 
beauty  may  beguile  my  vacant  and  solitary  hours. 

I  do  not  expect  a  sudden  disruption  of  the  political  bonds 
which  unite  the  states  of  this  confederacy  ;  but  I  greatly  fear  a 
growing  spirit  of  jealousy,  and  discontent,  and  sectional  hate, 
which  must,  if  permitted  to  extend  itself,  finally  destroy  the 
beauty  and  harmony  of  the  fabric,  if  it  does  not  raze  it  to  its 
foundation.  It  can  not  be  maintained  by  force,  and  majorities  in 
a  confederacy  should  be  admonished  to  use  their  power  justly. 
Let  no  one  suppose  that  those  who  have  been  joined  together 
will  remain  so,  despite  the  commission  of  mutual  wrongs,  because 
they  have  once  enjoyed  each  other's  confidence  and  affect  ion 
and  propriety  requires  them  to  remain  united.  A  chafed  spirit, 
whether  of  a  community  or  an  individual,  may  be  goaded  beyond 
endurance ;  and  the  history  of  the  world  has  proved  that  the  sea- 
son of  desperation  which  succeeds  is  awfully  reckless  of  conse- 
quences. But  woe  be  to  him  by  whom  the  offence  of  disunion 
comes !  He  will  be  held  accursed  when  the  bloody  mandates  of 
Herod  a  id  Nero  shall  be  forgiven,  and  be  regarded  as  a  greater 
monster  .n  this  world  than  he  who,  to  signalize  his  brutal  ferocity 
reared  a  monument  of  thousands  of  human  skulls,  and,  in  the 
rext, 

"The  common  damned  will  shun  his  society, 
And  look  upon  themselves  as  fiends  less  foul." 


238  ROSS'S   SPEAKER. 


A  Defence  of  Daniel  Webster.  — Jons  m.  Claytow- 

Sir:  In  regard  to  the  denunciation  of  the  sentiment  of  my 
nonorahle  friend  from  Massachusetts,  I  have  something  to  say. 
The  opinion  expressed  in  this  denunciation  is,  that  it  would  be  a 
natural  and  easy  step  for  the  senator  from  Massachusetts  to  take, 
to  join  the  enemies  of  his  country  in  war  :  in  other  words,  to  turn 
traitor,  and  merit  by  his  treason  the  most  ignominious  of  all 
deaths,  with  an  immortality  of  infamy  beyond  the  grave.  And 
for  what  ?  The  senator  from  Massachusetts  had  expressed  a 
preference  for  the  constitution  to  the  Capitol  of  his  country.  He 
had  dared  to  declare  that  he  prized  the  magna  charta  of  Ameri- 
can liberty  —  the  sacred  bond  of  our  union,  the  tie  which  binds 
together  twelve  millions  of  freemen  —  above  the  stones  and 
mortar  which  compose  the  crumbling  mass  within  whose  walls  we 
are  assembled.  "  The  very  head  and  front  of  his  offending  hath 
this  extent ;  no  more." 

No  man  here  has  questioned,  in  the  most  violent  moments  of 
party  excitement, —  not  amidst  the  fiercest  of  all  political  strife, — 
his  purity  of  purpose  in  debate.  Grant  to  him,  what  all  others 
who  have  any  title  to  the  character  of  gentlemen  demand  for 
themselves,  that  he  believed  what  he  said  ;  grant  that,  in  his 
judgment,  as  well  as  that  of  many  here,  the  very  existence  of 
our  liberties  is  involved  in  the  surrender  of  the  principle  he 
contended  for ;  grant  that  the  concentration  of  legislative  and 
executive  power  in  the  hands  of  a  single  man  is  the  death  blow 
to  the  constitution,  and  that  the  senator  was  right  in  considering 
the  proposed  appropriation  as  establishing  the  very  principle 
which  gave  that  fatal  blow,  —  and  who  is  he  that,  thus  believ- 
ing, would  support  that  proposition,  because  the  guns  of  the  enemy 
were  battering  at  the  walls  of  the  Capitol  ?  Where  is  the  coward, 
where  is  the  traitor,  who  would  not  rather  see  the  Capitol  than 
the  constitution  of  his  country  in  ruins  ?  or  who  would  lend 
himself  to  the  establishment  of  a  despotism  among  us,  with  a 
view  to  save  this  building  for  the  despot  to  revel  in  ? 

Sir,  in  the  days  when  Themistocles  led  the  Athenians  to  victory 
at  Salamis,  he  advised  them  to  surrender  their  Capitol  for  the 
preservation  of  the  constitution  of  their  country.  That  gallant 
people  rose  under  the  impulse  of  patriotism  as  one  man,  and 
with  a  stern  resolution  to  yield  life  itself  rather  than  abandon 
their  liberties,  and  surrender  the  proud  privilege  of  legislating 
for  themselves  to  the  delegate  of  a  Persian  despot,  who  offe  ed 
them  "  all  their  own  dominions,  together  with  an  accessioo  of 


THE  EXPLOITS  OF  GENERAL  TAYLOR.     239 

territory  ample  as  their  wishes,  upon  the  single  condition  that 
they  should  receive  law  and  suffer  him  to  preside  in  Greece  "' 
At  "that  eventful  period  of  their  history,  Crysilus  alone  proposed 
the  surrender  of  their  constitution  to  save  the  Capitol ;  and  they 
stoned  him  to  death.  The  public  indignation  was  not  yet  satis 
fied  ;  for  the  Athenian  matrons  then  rose  and  inflicted  the  same 
punishment  on  his  wife.  Leaving  their  Capitol,  and  their  noble 
city,  rich  as  it  was  with  the  productions  of  every  art,  and  glitter- 
ing all  over  with  the  proudest  trophies  and  the  most  splendid 
temples  in  the  world,  —  deserting,  in  the  cause  of  free  government, 
the  very  land  that  gave  them  birth, —  they  embarked  on  board 
their  ships,  and  fought  that  battle,  the  name  of  which  has  made 
the  bosoms  of  freemen  to  thrill  with  sympathy  in  all  the  ages 
that  have  followed  it,  and  shall  cause  the  patriot's  heart  to  beai 
higher  with  emotion  through  countless  ages  to  come. 

I  repeat,  sir,  what  no  man  who  knows  the  senator  from  Mas- 
sachusetts has  ever  doubted,  that  he  was  sincere  in  declaring  that 
he  viewed  the  proposition  under  debate  as  involving  the  surrender 
of  the  most  valuable  trust  reposed  in  us  by  the  constitution  to  a 
single  man,  and  as  one  which,  while  it  delegates  the  legisla 
live  power  to  the  executive,  establishes  a  precedent  to  prostrate 
the  constitution  forever.  I  do  not  feel,  however,  that  his  conduci 
needs  vindication  from  me  or  any  other ;  for,  although  the 
transient  spirit  of  party  may  have  sought  to  obscure  his  exalted 
character  in  the  eyes  of  those  who  are  easily  led  by  misrep- 
resentation into  error,  honorable  fame  has  already  encircled  his 
temples  with  a  wreath  of  unfading  verdure,  and  impartial  his- 
tory  shall  hereafter  emphatically  designate  him,  amidst  all  the 
compatriots  of  his  day,  as  the  able,  the  eloquent,  the  fearless 
champion  and  defender  of  his  country's  constitution. 


The  Exploits  of  General  Taylor.  -  Jefferson  Davis. 

Mh.  President:  This  whole  country  was  thrown  into  one 
general  burst  of  joy,  our  towns  were  illuminated,  when  the  little 
army  on  the  Rio  Grande  repulsed,  heat  on  two  fields,  a  Mexican 
army  three  times  their  number,  advantageously  posted,  and 
fighting  with  obstinacy  proportionate  to  their  numerical  superi- 
ority. But  why  recount  it  ?  It  was  an  army,  according  to  the 
senator's  dictum,  which  could  have  been  held  in  check  by  two 
hundred  and  fifty  Texan  rang<  rs.  Is  it  true,  sir,  that  those 
soldiers  who    had' spent    their  lives    in  acquiring  their  profession 


5240  ROSS'S   SPEAKER. 

with  an  aimy  of  two  thousand  men,  than  which  none  was  ever 
more  favorably  composed  for  desperate  service,  old  soldiers  and 
young  leaders,  performed  only  what  two  hundred  and  fifty  Texan 
rangers  could  have  done  so  much  more  effectually  ?  Shades  of 
Ringgold,  Mcintosh,  Barbour,  Ridgely,  and  Duncan,  and  thou,  the 
hero  of  the  Mexican  war,  let  not  your  ashes  be  disturbed.  The 
star  of  your  glory  will  never  be  obscured  by  such  fogs  and 
fleeting  clouds  as  that.  It  will  continue  to  shine  brighter  and 
brighter  as  long  as  professional  skill  is  appreciated,  or  bravery 
is  admired,  or  patriotism  has  a  shrine  in  the  American  heart. 

But,  sir,  it  was  not  alone  in  the  United  States  that  the  military 
movements  and  achievements  on  the  Rio  Grande  were  viewed 
with  admiration.  The  greatest  captain  of  the  age,  the  Duke  of 
Wellington,  the  moment  he  saw  the  positions  taken  and  the 
combinations  made  upon  the  Rio  Grande, —  the  moment  he  saw 
the  communication  opened  between  the  depot  at  Point  Isabel  and 
the  garrison  at  Fort  Brown,  by  that  masterly  movement  of  which 
the  battles  of  Palo  Alto  and  Resaca  de  la  Palma  were  a  part, — 
exclaimed,  that  General  Taylor  is  a  general  indeed  And  yet, 
sir,  all  history  is  to  be  rewritten,  all  the  rapture  and  pride  of  the 
country  at  the  achievements  upon  those  bloody  fields  are  to 
disappear,  and  the  light  of  science  to  pale  before  the  criticism  of 
that  senator  by  whom  we  are  told  that  a  little  band  of  mounted 
riflemen  could  have  done  that  which  cost  so  many  American 
lives  and  hecatombs  of  Mexicans. 

1  have  spoken  thus  as  a  simple  duty,  not  from  any  unkindness 
to  the  senator,  but  that  I  might  do  justice  to  many  of  my  com- 
rades, whose  dust  now  mingles  with  the  earth  upon  which  they 
fought  —  that  I  might  not  leave  unredressed  the  wrongs  of  the 
buried  dead.  I  have  endeavored  to  suppress  all  personal  feeling, 
though  the  character  of  the  attack  upon  my  friend  and  general 
might  have  pardoned  its  indulgence.  It  is  true  that  sorrow 
sharpens  memory,  and  that  many  deeds  of  noblest  self-sacrifice, 
many  tender  associations,  rise  now  vividly  before  me.  I  remem- 
ber the  purity  of  his  character,  his  vast  and  varied  resources ; 
and  I  remember  how  the  good  and  great  qualities  of  his  heart 
were  equally  and  jointly  exhibited  when  he  took  the  immense 
responsibility  under  which  he  acted  at  the  battle  of  Buena  Vista, 
fought  after  he  had  been  recommended  by  his  senior  general  to 
retire  to  Monterey. 

Around  him  stood  those  whose  lives  were  in  his  charge,  whose 
mothers,  fathers,  wives,  and  children  would  look  to  him  for  their 
return  :  those  were  there  who  had  shared  his  fortunes  on  otner 
Selds ;  some  who,  never  having  seen  a  battle,  were  eager  for  the 


APOSTROPHE  TO    WASHINGTON.  241 

combat,  without  knowing  how  direful  it  would  be ;  immediately 
about  him  those  loving  and  beloved,  and  reposing  such  confidence 
in  their  commander  that  they  but  waited  his  beck  and  will  to  do 
and  dare.  On  him,  and  on  him  alone,  rested  the  responsibility. 
It  was  in  hk  power  to  avoid  it  by  retiring  to  Monterey,  there  to 
be  invested  and  captured,  and  then  justify  himself  under  his 
instructions.  He  would  not  do  it,  but  cast  all  upon  the  die, 
resolved  to  maintain  his  country's  honor,  and  save  his  country's 
flag  from  trailing  in  the  dust  of  the  enemy  he  had  so  often 
beaten,  or  close  the  conqueror's  career  as  became  the  soldier. 
His  purpose  never  wavered,  his  determination  never  faltered: 
his  country's  honor  to  be  untarnished,  his  country's  flag  to 
triumph,  or  for  himself  to  find  an  honorable  grave,  was  the  only 
alternative  he  considered.  Under  these  circumstances,  on  the 
morning  of  the  23d  of  February,  that  glorious  but  bloody  conflict 
commenced.  It  won  for  him  a  chaplet  that  it  would  be  a  disgrace 
for  an  American  to  mutilate,  and  which  it  were  an  idle  attempt 
to  adorn.  I  leave  it  to  a  grateful  country,  which  is  conscious  of 
his  services,  and  possesses  a  discrimination  that  is  not  to  be  con- 
founded by  the  assertions  of  any,  however  high  their  position. 


Apostrophe  to  Washington.  —  Wbmtbh, 

[On  the  occasion  of  the  laying  of  the  corner  stone  of  the  new  wing  of  the 

Capitol.] 

Fellow-citizens  :  What  contemplations  are  awakened  in 
our  minds  as  we  assemble  hare  to  reenact  a  scene  like  that 
performed  by  Washington  !  Methinks  I  see  his  venerable  form 
now  before  me,  as  presented  in  the  glorious  statue  by  Houdon, 
now  in  the  Capitol  of  Virginia.  He  is  dignified  and  grave  ;  but 
concern  and  anxiety  seem  to  soften  the  lineaments  of  his  coun- 
tenance. The  government  over  which  he  presides  is  yet  in  the 
crisis  of  experiment.  Not  free  from  troubles  at  home,  he  sees 
the  world  in  commotion  and  arms  all  around  him.  He  sees  that 
i.r.'wsing  foreign  powers  are  half  disposed  to  try  the  strength  of 
the  recently  established  American  government.  Mighty  thoughts 
mingled  with  fears  as  well  as  with  hopes,  are  struggling  within 
him.  He  heads  a  short  procession  over  these  then  naked  fields, 
he  crosses  yonder  stream  on  a  fallen  tree ;  he  ascends  to  the  top 
of  this  eminence,  whose  original  oaks  of  the  forest  stand  a* 
thick  around  hi  in  as  if  the  spot  had  been  devoted  to  Druidical 
worship,  and  here  he  performs  the  appointed  duty  of  the  day. 

And  now,   fellow-citizens,  if  this  vision  were  a  reality, — -if 
16 


242  ROSS'S  SPEAKER. 

Washington  actually  were  now  amongst  us,  —  and  if  he  could 
draw  around  him  the  shades  of  the  great  public  men  of  his  own 
days,  patriots  and  warriors,  orators  and  statesmen,  and  were  to 
address  us  in  their  presence,  would  he  not  say  to  us,  "  Ye  men 
of  this  generation,  I  rejoice  and  thank  God  for  being  able  to  see 
that  our  labors,  and  toils,  and  sacrifices  were  not  in  vain.  You 
are  prosperous,  you  are  happy,  you  are  grateful.  The  fire  of 
liberty  burns  brightly  and  steadily  in  your  hearts,  while  duty  and 
the  law  restrain  it  from  bursting  forth  in  wild  and  destructive 
conflagration.  Cherish  liberty,  as  you  love  it ;  cherish  its  secu- 
rities, as  you  wish  to  preserve  it.  Maintain  the  constitution  which 
we  labored  so  painfully  to  establish,  and  which  has  been  to  you 
such  a  source  of  inestimable  blessings.  Preserve  the  union  of 
the  states,  cemented  as  it  was  by  our  prayers,  our  tears,  and  our 
Mood.  Be  true  to  God,  to  your  country,  and  to  your  duty.  So 
shall  the  whole  eastern  world  follow  the  morning  sun,  to  con- 
template you  as  a  nation  ;  so  shall  all  generations  honor  you,  as 
they  honor  us  ;  and  so  shall  that  Almighty  Power  which  so 
graciously  protected  us,  and  which  now  protects  you,  shower  its 
everlasting  blessings  upon  you  and  your  posterity." 

Great  father  of  your  country,  we  heed  your  words  ;  we  feel 
their  force,  as  if  you  now  uttered  them  with  lips  of  flesh  and 
blood.  Your  example  teaches  us,  your  affectionate  addresses 
teach  us,  your  public  life  teaches  us,  your  sense  of  the  value  of 
the  blessings  of  the  Union.  Those  blessings  our  fathers  have 
tasted,  and  we  have  tasted,  and  still  taste.  Nor  do  we  intend 
that  those  who  come  after  us  shall  be  denied  the  same  high 
fruition.  Our  honor,  as  well  as  our  happiness,  is  concerned.  We 
can  not,  we  dare  not,  we  will  not,  betray  our  sacred  trust.  We 
will  not  filch  from  posterity  the  treasure  placed  in  our  hands  to 
be  transmitted  to  other  generations.  The  bow  that  gilds  the 
clouds  in  the  heavens,  the  pillars  that  uphold  the  firmament,  may 
disappear  and  fall  away  in  the  hour  appointed  by  the  will  of  God  ; 
but  until  that  day  comes,  or  so  long  as  our  lives  may  last,  no 
ruthless  hand  shall  undermine  that  bright  arch  of  union  and  lib- 
erty which  spans  the  continent  from  Washington  to  California. 


The  Power  of  Public  Opinion.  —  >\  eb8tek, 

We  are  too  much  inclined  to  underrate  the  power  of  moral 
influence,  and  the  influence  of  public  opinion,  and  die  influence 
of  principles  to  which  great  men,  the  lights  of  the  world  and  of 


THE   POWER  OF  PUBLIC  OPINION.  243 

the  age,  have  given  their  sanction.  Who  doubts  that,  in  our  own 
struggle  for  liberty  and  independence,  the  majestic  eloquence  of 
Chatham,  the  profound  reasoning  of  Burke,  the  burning  satire 
and  irony  of  Colonel  Barre,  had  influences  upon  our  fortunes  here 
in  America  ?  They  had  influences  both  ways.  They  tended, 
in  the  first  place,  somewhat  to  diminish  the  confidence  of  the 
British  ministry  in  their  hopes  of  success,  in  attempting  to 
subjugate  an  injured  people.  They  had  influence  another  way, 
because  all  along  the  coasts  of  the  country,  —  and  all  our  people 
in  that  day  lived  upon  the  coast,  —  there  was  not  a  reading  man 
who  did  not  feel  stronger,  bolder,  and  more  determined  in  the 
assertion  of  his  rights,  when  these  exhilarating  accounts  from 
the  two  Houses  of  Parliament  reached  him  from  beyond  the 
seas.  He  felt  that  those  who  held  and  controlled  public  opinion 
elsewhere  were  with  us ;  that  their  words  of  eloquence  might 
produce  an  effect  in  the  region  where  they  were  uttered ;  and, 
above  all,  they  assured  them  that,  in  the  judgment  of  the  just, 
and  the  wise,  and  the  impartial,  their  cause  was  just,  and  they 
were  right ;  and  therefore  they  said,  We  will  fight  it  out  to  the 
last. 

Now,  gentlemen,  another  great  mistake  is  sometimes  made. 
We  think  that  nothing  is  powerful  enough  to  stand  before  auto- 
cratic, monarchical,  or  despotic  power.  There  is  something 
strong  enough,  quite  strong  enough,  —  and,  if  properly  exerted, 
will  prove  itself  so,  —  and  that  is  the  power  of  intelligent  public 
opinion  in  all  the  nations  of  the  earth.  There  is  not  a  monarch 
on  earth  whose  throne  is  not  liable  to  be  shaken  by  the  progress 
of  opinion,  and  the  sentiment  of  the  just  and  intelligent  part  of 
the  people.  It  becomes  us,  in  the  station  which  we  hold,  to  let 
that  public  opinion,  so  far  as  we  form  it,  have  a  free  course. 
Let  it  go  out ;  let  it  be  pronounced  in  thunder  tones  ;  let  it  open 
he  ears  of  the  deaf;  let  it  open  the  eyes  of  the  blind  ;  and  let  it 
3very  where  be  proclaimed  what  we  of  this  great  republic  think 
of  the  general  principle  of  human  liberty,  and  of  that  oppression 
which  all  abhor.  Depend  upon  it,  gentlemen,  that  between 
these  two  rival  powers,  —  the  autocratic  power,  maintained  by 
arms  and  force,  and  the  popular  power,  maintained  by  opinion, — 
♦he  former  is  constantly  decreasing,  and,  thank  God,  the  latter 
is  constantly  inc  naming.  Real  human  liberty  and  human  rights 
arc  gaining  the  ascendant;  and  the  part  which  we  have  to  act, 
in  all  this  greal  drama,  is  to  show  ourselves  in  favor  of  those 
rights,  to  uphold  our  ascendency,  and  to  carry  it  on  until  wo 
unidl  see  it  culminate  in  the  highest  heaven  over  our  heads. 


244  ROSS'S    SPEAKER. 


Popular  Excitement  in  Elections.  —  McDtrra. 

Sir,  I  not  only  maintain  that  the  people  are  exempt  from  the 
charge  of  violence,  but  that  there  is  a  tendency  to  carry  the 
feeling  of  indifference  to  public  affairs  to  a  dangerous  extreme. 
From  the  peculiar  structure  and  commercial  spirit  of  modem 
society,  and  the  facilities  presented,  in  our  country,  for  the 
acquisition  of  wealth,  the  eager  pursuit  of  gain  predominates 
over  our  concern  for  the  affairs  of  the  republic.  This  is, 
perhaps,  our  national  foible.  Wealth  is  the  object  of  our  idolatry, 
and  even  liberty  is  worshiped  in  the  form  of  property.  Although 
this  spirit,  by  stimulating  industry,  is  unquestionably  excellent  in 
itself,  yet  it  is  to  be  apprehended  that,  in  a  period  of  peace  and 
tranquillity,  it  will  become  too  strong  for  patriotism,  and  produce 
the  greatest  of  national  evils  —  popular  apathy. 

We  have  been  frequently  told  that  the  farmer  should  attend 
to  his  plough,  and  the  mechanic  to  his  handicraft,  during  the 
canvass  for  the  presidency.  Sir,  a  more  dangerous  doctrine 
could  not  be  inculcated.  If  there  is  any  spectacle  from  the 
contemplation  of  which  I  would  shrink  with  peculiar  horror,  it 
would  be  that  of  the  great  mass  of  the  American  people  sunk 
into  a  profound  apathy  on  the  subject  of  their  highest  political 
interests.  Such  a  spectacle  would  be  more  portentous  to  the 
eye  of  intelligent  patriotism  than  all  the  monsters  of  the  earth, 
and  fiery  signs  of  the  heavens  to  the  eye  of  trembling  supersti- 
tion. If  the  people  could  be  indifferent  to  the  fate  of  a  contest 
for  the  presidency,  they  would  be  unworthy  of  freedom.  If  I 
were  to  perceive  them  sinking  into  this  apathy,  I  would  even 
apply  the  power  of  political  galvanism,  if  such  a  power  could  be 
found,  to  rouse  them  from  their  fatal  lethargy.  Keep  the  people 
quiet !  Peace !  peace !  Such  are  the  whispers  by  which  the 
people  are  to  be  lulled  to  sleep,  in  the  very  crisis  of  their  highest 
concerns.  Sir,  "  you  make  a  solitude,  and  call  it  peace." 
Peace  ?  'Tis  death  !  Take  away  all  interest  from  the  people 
in  the  election  of  their  chief  ruler,  and  liberty  is  no  more.  What, 
sir,  is  to  be  the  consequence  ? 

If  the  people  do  not  elect  the  president,  somebody  must. 
There  is  no  special  providence  to  decide  the  question.  Who, 
then,  is  to  make  the  election,  and  how  will  it  operate  ?  You 
throw  a  general  paralysis  over  the  body  politic,  and  excite  a 
morbid  action  in  particular  members.  The  general  patriotic 
excitement  of  the  people,  in  relation  to  the  election  of  the 
president,  is  as  essential  to  the  health  and  energy  of  the  political 


THE  HOUR   OF   DEATH.  24f> 

system  as  circulation  of  the  blood  is  to  the  health  and  energy  ot 
-lie  natural  body.  Check  that  circulation,  and  you  inevitably 
produce  local  inflammation,  gangrene,  and  ultimately  death. 
Make  the  people  indifferent,  destroy  their  legitimate  influence, 
and  you  communicate  a  morbid  violence  to  the  efforts  of  those 
who  are  ever  ready  to  assume  the  control  of  such  affairs — the 
mercenary  intriguers  and  interested  office-hunters  of  the  country. 
Tell  me  not,  sir,  of  popular  violence.  Show  me  a  hundred 
political  factionists,  —  men  who  look  to  the  election  of  a  president 
as  the  means  of  gratifying  their  high  or  their  low  ambition, — 
and  I  will  show  you  the  very  materials  for  a  mob,  ready  for  any 
desperate  adventure  connected  with  their  common  fortunes. 
The  reason  of  this  extraordinary  excitement  is  obvious.  It  is  a 
matter  of  self-interest,  of  personal  ambition.  The  people  can 
have  no  such  motives.  They  look  only  to  the  interest  and  glory 
of  the  country. 


The  Hour  of  Death.  —  Mat.  Hbmaiw. 

Leaves  have  their  time  to  fall, 
And  flowers  to  wither  at  the  north  wind's  breath, 

And  stars  to  set ;  but  all, 
Thou  hast  all  seasons  for  thine  own,  O  Death. 

Day  is  for  mortal  care, 
Eve  for  glad  meetings  round  the  joyous  hearth, 

Night  for  the  dreams  of  sleep,  the  voice  of  prayer; 
But  all  for  thee,  thou  mightiest  of  the  earth. 

Youth  and  the  opening  rose 
May  look  like  things  too  glorious  for  decay, 

And  smile  at  thee  ;  but  thou  art  not  of  those 
That  wait  the  ripened  bloom  to  seize  their  prey. 

We  know  when  moons  shall  wane, 
When  summer- birds  from  far  shall  cross  the  sea, 

When  autumn's  hue  shall  tinge  the  golden  grain; 
But  who  shall  teach  us  when  to  look  for  thee? 

Is  it  when  spring's  first  gale 
Comes  forth  to  whisper  where  the  violets  lie  ? 

Is  it  when  roses  in  our  paths  grow  pale  ? 
They  have  one  season  ;  all  are  ours  to  die. 


346  ROSS'S   SPEAKER. 

Thou  art  where  billows  foam  ; 
Thou  art  where  music  melts  upon  the  air ; 

Thou  art  around  us  in  our  peaceful  home ; 
And  the  world  calls  us  forth,  and  thou  art  there. 

Thou  art  where  friend  meets  friend, 
Beneath  the  shadow  of  the  elm  to  rest ; 

Thou  art  where  foe  meets  foe,  and  trumpets  rend 
The  skies,  and  swords  beat  down  the  princely  crest. 


The  Destiny  of  the  United  States.  —  h.  w.  Hilliard. 

Sir,  is  not  the  language  of  Berkeley  in  the  progress  of  fulfill 
ment,  when  he  wrote  that  immortal  line,  — 

"  Westward  the  star  of  empire  takes  its  way  "  ? 

When  Oregon  shall  be  in  our  possession,  when  we  shall  have 
established  a  profitable  trade  with  China  through  her  ports, 
when  our  ships  traverse  the  Pacific  as  they  now  cross  the  Atlan- 
tic, and  all  the  countless  consequences  of  such  a  state  of  things 
begin  to  flow  in  upon  us,  then  will  be  fulfilled  that  vision  which 
rapt  and  filled  the  mind  of  Nunez  as  he  gazed  over  the  placid 
waves  of  the  Pacific. 

I  will  now  address  myself  for  a  moment  to  the  moral  aspect 
of  this  great  question.  Gentlemen  have  talked  much  and 
eloquently  about  the  horrors  of  war.  I  should  regret  the  neces- 
sity of  a  war  ;  I  should  deplore  its  dreadful  scenes  ;  but  if  the 
possession  of  Oregon  gives  us  a  territory  opening  upon  the 
nation  prospects  such  as  I  describe,  and  if,  for  the  simple 
exercise  of  our  rights  in  regard  to  it,  Great  Britain  should 
wage  war  upon  us,  —  an  unjust  war,  —  the  regret  which  every 
one  must  feel  will,  at  least,  have  much  to  counterbalance  it. 
One  of  England's  own  writers  has  said,  "  The  possible  destiny 
of  the  United  States  of  America,  as  a  nation  of  one  hundred 
millions  of  freemen,  stretching  from  the  Atlantic  to  the  Pacific, 
living  under  the  laws  of  Alfred,  and  speaking  the  language  of 
Shakspeare  and  Milton,  is  an  august  conception." 

It  is  an  august  conception,  finely  embodied ;  and  I  trust  in  God 
that  it  will,  at  no  distant  time,  become  a  reality.  I  trust  that  the 
world  will  see,  through  all  time,  our  people  living,  not  only 
under  the  laws  of  Alfred,  but  that  they  will  be  heard  V>  spesk 


THE   FAMINE   IN    IRELAND.  247 

throughout  our  wide-spread  borders  the  language  of  Shakspeare 
and  Milton.  Above  all  is  it  my  prayer  that,  as  long  as  our 
posterity  shall  continue  to  inhabit  these  mountains  and  plains, 
and  hills  and  valleys,  they  may  be  found  living  under  the  sacred 
institutions  of  Christianity.  Put  these  things  together,  and  what 
a  picture  do  they  present  to  the  mental  eye  !  Civilization  and 
intelligence  started  in  the  East ;  they  have  travelled,  and  are  still 
travelling,  westward ;  but  when  they  shall  have  completed  the 
circuit  of  the  earth,  and  reached  the  extremest  verge  of  the 
Pacific  shores,  then,  unlike  the  fabled  god  of  the  ancients,  who 
dipped  his  glowing  axle  in  the  western  wave,  they  will  take  up 
their  permanent  abode. 

Then  shall  we  enjoy  the  sublime  destiny  of  returning  these 
blessings  to  their  ancient  seat ;  then  will  it  be  ours  to  give  the 
priceless  benefits  of  our  free  institutions,  and  the  pure  and 
healthful  light  of  the  gospel,  back  to  the  dark  family  which  nas 
so  long  lost  both  truth  and  freedom  ;  then  may  Christianity  plant 
herself  there,  and  while  with  one  hand  she  points  to  the  Polyne- 
sian isles,  rejoicing  in  the  late-recovered  treasure  of  revealed 
truth,  with  the  other  present  the  Bible  to  the  Chinese.  It  is  our 
duty  to  aid  in  this  great  work.  I  trust  we  shall  esteem  it  as 
much  our  honor  as  our  duty.  Let  us  not,  like  some  of  the  British 
missionaries,  give  them  the  Bible  in  one  hand  and  opium  in  the 
other,  but  bless  them  only  with  the  pure  word  of  truth.  I  hope 
the  day  is  not  distant  —  soon,  soon  may  its  dawn  arise  —  to  shed 
upon  the  farthest  and  the  most  benighted  of  nations  the  splendor 
of  more  than  a  tropical  sun. 


The  Famine  in  Ireland.  —  s.  s.  Pbentiss. 

Tin: re  lies  upon  the  other  side  of  the  wide  Atlantic  a  beaua- 

ll   island,  famous   in   story  and   in  song.     It  has  given  to  the 

world  more  than  its  share  of  genius  and  of  greatness.     It  has 

been  prolific   in  statesmen,  warriors,  and  poets.     Its  brave  and 

generous  suns  have  fought  successfully  in  all  battles  but  its  own. 

In  wit  ami  humor  it  has  no  equal;  while  its  harp,  like  its  history, 

ira  by  its  sweel  bul   melancholy  pathos.     In  this  fair 

region  God  has  seen  lit  to  send  the  mosl  terrible  of  all  those 

fearful  ministers  who  fulfill   his  inscrutable  decrees.     Tin1  earth 

failed  to  give  her  increase;  the  common  mother  has  forgot- 

ten   her  offspring,  and  her  breast  no  longer  affords  them  their 

accustomed  nourishment.    Famine,  gaunt  ami  ghastly  famine,  hot 


248  BOSS'S  SPEAKER. 

seized  a  nation  with  its  strangling  grasp  ;  and  unhappy  Ireland, 
in  the  sad  woes  of  the  present,  forgets,  for  a  moment,  the 
gloomy  history  of  the  past. 

In  battle,  in  the  fullness  of  his  pride  and  strength,  little  recks 
the  soldier  whether  the  hissing  bullet  sing  his  sudden  requiem, 
or  the  cords  of  life  are  severed  by  the  sharp  steel.  But  he  who 
dies  of  hunger  wrestles  alone,  day  after  day,  with  his  grim  and 
unrelenting  enemy.  He  has  no  friends  to  cheer  him  in  the 
terrible  conflict ;  for  if  he  had  friends,  how  could  he  die  of 
hunger  ?  He  has  not  the  hot  blood  of  the  soldier  to  maintain 
him  ;  for  his  foe,  vampire-like,  has  exhausted  his  veins. 

Who  will  hesitate  to  give  his  mite  to  avert  such  awful  results  ? 
Give,  then,  generously  and  freely.  Recollect  that  in  so  doing 
you  are  exercising  one  of  the  most  godlike  qualities  of  your 
nature,  and  at  the  same  time  enjoying  one  of  the  greatest  luxu- 
ries of  life.  We  ought  to  thank  our  Maker  that  he  has  permitted 
us  to  exercise  equally  with  himself  that  noblest  of  even  the  divine 
attributes  —  benevolence.  Go  home  and  look  at  your  family, 
smiling  in  rosy  health,  and  then  think  of  the  pale,  famine-pinched 
cheeks  of  the  poor  children  of  Ireland,  and  you  will  give 
according  to  your  store,  even  as  a  bountiful  Providence  has 
given  to  you  —  not  grudgingly,  but  with  an  open  hand  ;  for  the 
quality  of  benevolence,  like  that  of  mercy, 

"  Is  not  strained; 
It  droppeth  like  the  gentle  rain  from  heaven 
Upon  the  place  beneath.     It  is  twice  blessed  : 
It  blesses  him  that  gives,  and  him  that  takes." 


New  England  and  the  Union.— s.  s.  Prentiss. 

Glorious  New  England  !  thou  art  still  true  to  thy  ancient 
fame,  and  worthy  of  thy  ancestral  honors.  On  thy  pleasant 
valleys  rest,  like  sweet  dews  of  morning,  the  gentle  recollections 
of  our  early  life;  around  thy  hills  and  mountains  cling,  like 
gathering  mists,  the  mighty  memories  of  the  revolution  ;  and 
far  away  in  the  horizon  of  thy  past  gleam,  like  thy  own  bright 
northern  lights,  the  awful  virtues  of  our  Pilgrim  sires.  But 
while  we  devote  this  day  to  the  remembrance  of  our  native 
land,  we  forget  not  that  in  which  our  happy  lot  is  cast.  We 
exult  in  the  reflection,  that  though  we  count  by  thousands  the 
miles  which  separate  us  from  our  birthplace,  still  our  country  is 


KEPUBLICS.  249 

ihe  same.  We  are  no  exiles  meeting  upon  the  banks  of  a 
foreign  river,  to  swell  its  waters  with  our  homesick  tears.  Here 
floats  the  same  banner  which  rustled  above  our  boyish  heads, 
except  that  its  mighty  folds  are  wider,  and  its  glittering  stars 
increased  in  number. 

The  sons  of  New  England  are  found  in  every  state  of  the 
broad  republic.  In  the  East,  the  South,  and  the  unbounded 
West,  their  blood  mingles  freely  with  every  kindred  current. 
We  have  but  changed  our  chamber  in  the  paternal  mansion  ;  in 
all  its  rooms  we  are  at  home,  and  all  who  inhabit  it  are  our 
brothers.  To  us  the  Union  has  but  one  domestic  hearth ;  its 
household  gods  are  all  the  same.  Upon  us,  then,  peculiarly 
devolves  the  duty  of  feeding  the  fires  upon  that  kindly  hearth ; 
of  guarding  with  pious  care  those  sacred  household  gods. 

We  can  not  do  with  less  than  the  whole  Union  ;  to  us  it  admits 
of  no  division.  In  the  veins  of  our  children  flows  northern 
and  southern  blood  :  how  shall  it  be  separated  ?  Who  shall  put 
asunder  the  best  affections  of  the  heart,  the  noblest  instincts  of 
our  nature  ?  We  love  the  land  of  our  adoption ;  so  do  we  that 
of  our  birth.  Let  us  ever  be  true  to  both,  and  always  exert 
ourselves  in  maintaining  the  unity  of  our  country,  the  integrity 
of  the  republic. 

Accursed,  then,  be  the  hand  put  forth  to  loosen  the  golden 
cord  of  union !  thrice  accursed  the  traitorous  lips  which  shall 
propose  its  severance  ! 


Republics.—  Hugh  8.  LbgasA. 

The  name  of  republic  is  inscribed  upon  the  most  imperish- 
able monuments  of  the  species,  and  it  is  probable  that  it  will 
continue  to  be  associated,  as  it  has  been  in  all  past  ages,  with 
whatever  is  heroic  in  character,  and  sublime  in  genius,  and 
elegant  and  brilliant  in  the  cultivation  of  arts  and  letters.  It 
would  not  be  difficult  to  prove  that  the  base  hirelings  who  have 
so  in  tusly  inculcated  a  contrary  doctrine  have   been  com- 

pelled to  falsify  history  and  abuse  reason.  It  might  be  asked, 
triumphantly,  whal  land  has  ever  been  visited  with  the  influences 

of  liberty,  thai  has  not  flourished  like  the  spring?     Wha1  | pie 

baa  ever  worshiped  at  her  altars  vrithoul  kindling  with  a  loftier 
spirit  and  putting  forth  more  noble  energies  ?  Where  has  she  ever 
■acted  that  her  deed  i  have  no1  been  heroic  .;  Where  has  she  ever 
spoken  thai  her  eloquence  has  nol  been  triumphant  and  sublime  ? 

V  th  respect  to  ourselves,  would  it  not  be  enough  to  say  that 


250  ROSS'S   SPEAKER. 

we  live  under  a  form  of  government  and  in  a  state  of  society  to 
which  the  world  has  never  yet  exhibited  a  parallel  ?  Is  it  then 
nothing  to  be  free  ?  How  many  nations  in  the  whole  annals  of 
human  kind  have  proved  themselves  worthy  of  being  so  ?  Is  it. 
nothing  that  we  are  republicans  ?  Were  all  men  as  enlightened, 
as  brave,  as  proud  as  they  ought  to  be,  would  they  suffer  them- 
selves to  be  insulted  with  any  other  title  ?  Is  it  nothing  that  so 
many  independent  sovereignties  should  be  held  together  in  such 
a  confederacy  as  ours  ?  What  does  history  teach  us  of  the 
difficulty  of  instituting  and  maintaining  such  a  polity,  and  of  the 
glory  that,  of  consequence,  ought  to  be  given  to  those  who  enjoy 
ts  advantages  in  so  much  perfection  and  on  so  grand  a  scale  ? 
For  can  any  thing  be  more  striking  and  sublime  than  the  idea 
of  an  imperial  republic,  spreading  over  an  extent  of  territory  more 
immense  than  the  empire  of  the  Csesars,  in  the  accumulated 
conquests  of  a  thousand  years  —  without  prefects,  or  proconsuls, 
or  publicans  —  founded  in  the  maxims  of  common  sense  — 
employing  within  itself  no  arms  but  those  of  reason  —  and 
known  to  its  subjects  only  by  the  blessings  it  bestows  or  perpetu- 
ates, yet  capable  of  directing  against  a  foreign  foe  all  the 
energies  of  a  military  despotism  —  a  republic  in  which  men  are 
completely  insignificant,  and  principles  and  laws  exercise,  through- 
out its  vast  dominion,  a  peaceful  and  irresistible  sway,  blending 
in  one  divine  harmony  such  various  habits  and  conflicting 
opinions,  and  mingling  in  our  institutions  the  light  of  philosophy 
with  all  that  is  dazzling  in  the  associations  of  heroic  achieve- 
ment and  extended  domination,  and  deep-seated  and  formidable 
power ! 


Eulogium  on  Franklin.— Mikabeau, 

Franklin  is  dead  !  Restored  to  the  bosom  of  the  Divinity  is 
that  genius  which  gave  freedom  to  America,  and  rayed  forth 
torrents  of  light  upon  Europe.  The  sage  whom  two  worlds 
claim  —  the  man  whom  the  history  of  empires  and  the  historv 
of  science  alike  contend  for  —  occupied,  it  can  not  be  denied,  a 
lofty  rank  among  his  species.  Long  enough  have  political  cabi- 
nets signalized  the  death  of  those  who  were  great  in  their  funeral 
eulogies  only.  Long  enough  has  the  etiq  jette  of  courls  prescribed 
hypocritical  mournings.  For  their  benefactors  only,  should  na- 
tions assume  the  emblem  of  grief:  and  the  representatives  of 
nations  should  commend  only  the  heroes  of  humanity  to  public 
veneration. 


UNION  OF   CHURCH  AND   STATE.  251 

In  the  fourteen  states  of  the  confederacy,  Congress  has 
ordained  a  mourning  of  two  months  for  the  death  of  Frank.in  • 
and  America  is  at  this  moment  acquitting  herself  of  this  tribute 
of  honor  to  one  of  the  fathers  of  her  constitution.  "Would  it 
not  become  us,  gentlemen,  to  unite  in  this  religious  act;  to 
participate  in  this  homage,  publicly  rendered  at  once  to  the 
rights  of  man  and  to  the  philosopher  who  has  contributed  most 
largely  to  their  vindication  throughout  the  world  ?  Antiquity 
would  have  erected  altars  to  this  great  and  powerful  genius,  who, 
to  promote  the  welfare  of  mankind,  comprehending  both  the 
heavens  and  the  earth  in  the  range  of  his  thought,  could  at 
once  snatch  the  bolt  from  the  cloud  and  the  sceptre  from  tyrants. 
France,  enlightened  and  free,  owes  at  least  the  acknowledgment 
of  her  remembrance  and  regret  to  one  of  the  greatest  intellects 
that  ever  served  the  united  cause  of  philosophy  and  liberty.  I 
propose  that  it  be  now  decreed  that  the  National  Assembly  wear 
mourning,  during  three  days,  for  Benjamin  Franklin. 


The  Union  of  Church  and  State.— Mikabeau. 

We  are  reproached  with  having  refused  to  decree  that  the 
Catholic  religion,  Apostolic  and  Roman,  is  the  national  religion. 
To  declare  the  Christian  religion  national  would  be  to  dishonor 
it  in  its  most  intimate  and  essential  characteristic.  In  general 
terms,  it  may  be  said  that  religion  is  not,  and  can  not  be,  a 
relation  between  the  individual  man  and  society.  It  is  a  relation 
between  him  and  the  Infinite  Being.  Would  you  understand 
what  was  meant  by  a  national  conscience  ?  Religion  is  no  more 
national  than  conscience.  A  man  is  not  veritably  religious  in 
so  far  as  he  is  attached  to  the  religion  of  a  nation.  If  there 
were  but  one  religion  in  the  world,  and  all  men  were  agreed  in 
professing  it,  it  would  be  none  the  less  true  that  each  would 
have  the  sincere  sentiment  of  religion  so  far  only  as  he  should 
be  himself  religious  with  a  religion  of  his  own;  that  is  to  say,  so 
far  only  as  he  would  be  wedded  to  that  universal  religion,  even 
though  the  whole  human  race  were  to  abjure  it.  And  so,  from 
whatever  point  we  consider  religion,  to  term  it  national  is  to 
give  it  a  designation  insignificant  or  absurd. 

Would  it  be  us  the  arbiter  of  its  truth,  or  as  the  judge  of  its 
nptitude  to  form  L.rf >< -< !  citizens,  thai  the  legislature  would  make 
a  religion  constitutional  ?  But,  in  the  first  place,  are  there 
national  truths  ?      In   the  second  nlaoe    nan  it  he  ever  useful  to 


•252  ROSS'S  SPEAKER. 

the  public  happiness  to  fetter  the  conscience  of  men  by  a  law  of 
the  state  ?  The  law  unites  us  only  in  those  points  where  adhe- 
sion is  essential  to  social  organization.  Those  points  belong 
only  to  the  superficies  of  our  being.  In  thought  and  conscience 
men  remain  isolated ;  and  their  association  leaves  to  them,  in 
these  respects,  the  absolute  freedom  of  the  state  of  nature. 

What  a  spectacle  would  it  be  for  those  early  Christians,  who, 
to  escape  the  sword  of  persecution,  were  obliged  to  consecrate 
their  altars  in  caves  or  amid  ruins,  —  what  a  spectacle  would  it 
be  for  them,  could  they  this  day  come  among  us,  and  witness 
the  glory  with  which  their  despised  religion  now  sees  itself  envi- 
roned;  the  temples,  the  lofty  steeples  bearing  aloft  the  glittering 
emblem  of  their  faith;  the  evangelic  cross,  which  crowns  the 
summit  of  all  the  departments  of  this  great  empire !  What  a 
transporting  sight  for  those  who,  in  descending  to  the  tomb,  had 
seen  that  religion,  during  their  lives,  honored  only  in  the  lurking- 
places  of  the  forest  and  the  desert !  Methinks  I  hear  them 
exclaim,  even  as  that  stranger  of  the  old  time  exclaimed,  on  be- 
holding the  encampment  of  the  people  of  God,   "  How  goodly 

ARE  THY  TENTS,  O  JACOB,  AND  THY  TABERNACLES,  O  ISRAEL  !  " 

Calm,  then,  ah,  calm  your  apprehensions,  ye  ministers  of  the 
God  of  peace  and  truth.  Blush  rather  at  your  incendiary  exag- 
gerations, and  no  longer  look  at  the  action  of  this  Assembly 
through  the  medium  of  your  passions.  We  do  not  ask  it  of  you 
to  take  an  oath  contrary  to  the  law  of  your  heart ;  but  we  do 
ask  it  of  you,  in  the  name  of  that  God  who  will  judge  us  all,  not 
to  confound  human  opinions  and  scholastic  traditions  with  the 
sacred  and  inviolable  rules  of  the  gospel.  If  it  be  contrary  to 
morality  to  act  against  one's  conscience,  it  is  none  the  less  so  to 
form  one's  conscience  after  false  and  arbitrary  principles.  The 
obligation  to  form  and  enlighten  one's  conscience  is  anterior  to 
the  obligation  to  follow  one's  conscience.  The  greatest  public 
calamities  have  been  caused  by  men  who  believed  they  were 
obeying  God,  and  saving  their  own  souls. 


To  the  Revolutionary  Veterans.  —  Daniel  Wimtm. 
[On  the  laying  of  the  corner  stone  of  the  Bunker  Hill  Monument,  June 

Venerable  men,  you  have  come  down  to  us  from  a  former 
generation.  Heaven  has  bounteously  lengthened  out  your  lives, 
that  you  might  behold  this  joyous  day.    You  are  now  where  you 


TO   THE   REVOLUTIONARY   VETERANS.  253 

stood,  fifty  years  ago  this  very  hour,  with  your  brothers  and 
your  neighbors,  shoulder  to  shoulder,  in  the  strife  for  your 
country.  Behold,  how  altered  !  The  same  heavens  are  indeed 
over  your  heads ;  the  same  ocean  rolls  at  your  feet ;  but  all  else, 
how  changed !  You  hear  now  no  roar  of  hostile  cannon,  you 
see  now  no  mixed  volumes  of  smoke  and  flame  rising  from 
burning  Charlestown.  The  ground  strewed  with  the  dead  and 
the  dying ;  the  impetuous  charge  ;  the  steady  and  successful 
repulse ;  the  loud  call  to  repeated  assault ;  the  summoning  of 
all  that  is  manly  to  repeated  resistance  ;  a  thousand  bosoms  freely 
and  fearlessly  bared  in  an  instant  to  whatever  of  terror  there 
may  be  in  war  and  death,  —  all  these  you  have  witnessed  ;  but 
you  witness  them  no  more.  All  is  peace.  The  heights  of  yonder 
metropolis,  its  towers  and  roofs,  which  you  then  saw  filled  with 
wives  and  children  and  countrymen  in  distress  and  terror,  and 
looking  with  unutterable  emotions  for  the  issue  of  the  combat, 
have  presented  you  to-day  with  the  sight  of  its  whole  happy 
population  come  out  to  welcome  and  greet  you  with  a  universal 
jubilee.  All  is  peace  ;  and  God  has  granted  you  this  sight  of 
your  country's  happiness  ere  you  slumber  in  the  grave  for- 
ever. 

But,  alas  !  you  are  not  all  here.  Time  and  the  sword  have 
thinned  your  ranks.  Prescott,  Putnam,  Stark,  Brooks,  Read, 
Pomeroy,  Bridge  !  —  our  eyes  seek  for  you  in  vain  amidst  this 
broken  band.  But  let  us  not  too  much  grieve  that  you  have 
met  the  common  fate  of  men.  You  lived  to  see  your  country's 
independence  established,  and  to  sheathe  your  swords  from  war. 
On  the  light  of  liberty  you  saw  arise  the  light  of  peace,  like 

"  Another  morn 
Risen  on  midnoon  ;  " — 

and  the  sky  on  which  you  closed  your  eyes  was  cloudless. 

But  —  ah  !  —  him  !  the  first  great  martyr  in  this  great  cause  ! 
Him  !  the  premature  victim  of  his  own  self-devoting  heart !  Him  ! 
the  head  of  our  civil  councils,  and  the  destined  leader  of  our  military 
bands,  whom  nothing  brought  hither  but  the  unquenchable  fire  of 
his  own  spirit !  Him  !  cut  off  by  Providence  in  the  hour  of 
overwhelming  anxiety  and  thick  gloom  ;  falling,  ere  he  saw  the 
star  of  his  country  rise  ;  pouring  out  his  generous  blood,  like 
water,  before  he  knew  whether  it  would  fertilize  a  land  of  free- 
dom or  of  bondage!  —  how  shall  I  struggle  with  the  emotions 
that  stifle  the  utterance  of  thj  came!  Our  poor  work  may  per- 
ish, but  thine  shall  endure  I  This  monument  may  moulder 
away;  the  solid  ground  it  rests  upon  may  sink  down  to  a  level 


254  ROSS'S   SPEAKER. 

with  the  sea ;  but  thy  memory  shall  not  fail.  Wheresoever 
among  men  a  heart  shall  be  found  that  beats  to  the  transports  of 
patriotism  and  liberty,  its  aspirations  shall  be  to  claim  kindred 
with  thy  spirit. 

Veterans,  you  are  the  remnant  of  many  a  well-fought  field. 
You  bring  with  vou  marks  of  honor  fron  Trenton  and  Mon- 
mouth,  from  Yorktown,  Camden,  Bennington,  and  Saratoga. 
Veterans  of  half  a  century  !  when,  in  your  youthful  days,  you  put 
every  thing  at  hazard  in  your  country's  cause,  good  as  that  cause 
was,  and  sanguine  as  youth  is,  still  your  fondest  hopes  did  not 
stretch  onward  to  an  hour  like  this.  Look  abroad  into  this  lovely 
land,  which  your  young  valor  defended,  and  mark  the  happiness 
with  which  it  is  filled  ;  yea,  look  abroad  into  the  whole  earth,  and 
see  what  a  name  you  have  contributed  to  give  to  your  country, 
and  what  a  praise  you  have  added  to  freedom,  and  then  rejoice 
in  the  sympathy  and  gratitude  which  beam  upon  your  last 
days  from  the  improved  condition  of  mankind. 


Intelligence  a  National  Safeguard.  —  Levi  Woodbury. 

Our  history  constantly  points  her  finger  to  a  most  efficient 
resource,  and  indeed  to  the  only  elixir,  to  secure  a  long  life  to 
any  popular  government,  in  increased  attention  to  useful  educa- 
tion and  sound  morals,  with  the  wise  description  of  equal 
measures  and  just  practices  they  inculcate  on  every  leaf  of 
recorded  time.  Before  their  alliance  the  spirit  of  misrule  will 
always,  in  time,  stand  rebuked,  and  those  who  worship  at  the 
shrine  of  unhallowed  ambition  must  quail.  Storms  in  the 
political  atmosphere  may  occasionally  happen  by  the  encroach- 
ments of  usurpers,  the  corruption  or  intrigues  of  demagogues,  or 
in  the  expiring  agonies  of  faction,  or  by  the  sudden  fury  of 
popular  frenzy ;  but,  with  the  restraints  and  salutary  influences 
of  the  allies  before  described,  these  storms  will  purify  as  health- 
fully as  they  often  do  in  the  physical  world,  and  cause  the  tree 
of  liberty,  instead  of  falling,  to  strike  its  roots  deeper. 

In  this  struggle  the  enlightened  and  moral  possess  also  a 
power,  auxiliary  and  strong,  in  the  spirit  of  the  age,  which  is 
not  only  with  them,  but  onward,  in  every  thing  to  ameliorate  or 
improve.  When  the  struggle  assumes  the  form  of  a  contest 
with  power,  in  all  its  subtlety,  or  with  undermining  and  corrupt 
ing  wealth,  as  it  sometimes  may,  rather  than  with  turbulence, 
sedition,  or  open  aggression  by  the  needy  and  desperate,  it  wll 


THE  PERMANENCE   OF  AMERICAN  LIBERTY.        255 

be   indispensable  to  employ  still  greater  diligence  •    to  cherish 
earnestness  of  purpose,  resoluteness  in  conduct ,  to  apply  hard 
and  constant  blows  to  real  abuses,  and  encourage  not  only  bold 
free,  and  original  thinking,  but  determined  action. 

In  such  a  cause  our  fathers  were  men  whose  hearts  were  not 
accustomed  to  fail  them  through  fear,  however  formidable  the 
obstacles.  We  are  not,  it  is  trusted,  such  degenerate  descendants 
as  to  prove  recreant,  and  fail  to  defend,  with  gallantry  and  firm- 
ness as  unflinching,  all  which  we  have  either  derived  from  them 
or  since  added  to  the  rich  inheritance.  At  such  a  crisis,  there- 
fore, and  in  such  a  cause,  yielding  to  neither  consternation  not 
despair,  may  we  not  all  profit  by  the  vehement  exhortations  of 
Cicero  to  Atticus  ?  "  If  you  are  asleep,  awake ;  if  you  are 
standing,  move  ;  if  you  are  moving,  run  ;  if  you  are  running, 
fly  !  "  All  these  considerations  warn  us  —  the  gravestones  of 
almost  every  former  republic  warn  us  —  that  a  high  standard  of 
moral  rectitude,  as  well  as  of  intelligence,  is  quite  as  indispen- 
sable to  communities,  in  their  public  doings,  as  to  individuals,  if 
they  would  escape  from  either  degeneracy  or  disgrace. 


The  Permanence  of  American  Liberty. 

George  McDutfie. 

The  election  of  a  chief  magistrate  by  the  mass  of  the  people 
of  an  extensive  community,  was,  to  the  most  enlightened  nations 
of  antiquity,  a  political  impossibility.  Destitute  of  the  art  of 
printing,  they  could  not  have  introduced  the  representative  prin- 
ciple into  their  political  systems,  even  if  they  had  understood  it. 
In  the  very  nature  of  things,  that  principle  can  only  be  co- 
nsive  with  popular  intelligence.  In  this  respect  the  art  of 
printing,  more  than  any  invention  since  the  creation  of  man,  is 
aed  to  change  and  elevate  the  political  condition  of  society. 
It  has  given  a  new  impulse  to  the  energies  of  the  human  mind, 
and  opens  new  and  brilliant  destinies  to  modern  republics,  which 
were  utterly  unattainable  by  the  ancients.  The  existence  of  a 
country  population,  scattered  over  a  vast  extent  of  territory,  as 
intelligent  as  the  population  of  the  cities,  is  a  phenomenon  which 
was  utterly  and  necessarily  unknown  to  the  free  stairs  of 
antiquity.  All  the  intelligence  which  controlled  the  destiny  and 
upheld  the  dominion  of  republican  Rome  was  confined  to  the 
walls  of  the  great  city,  uvea  when  her  dominion  extended 
beyond  Itaiy  to  the  utmost  known   limits  of  the  inhabited  world, 


256  ROSS'S  SPEAKER. 

the  city  was  the   exclusive  seat  both  of  intelligence  and   em 
pire. 

Without  the  art  of  printing,  and  the  consequent  advantages  of 
a  free  press,  that  habitual  and  incessant  action  of  mind  upon 
mind,  which  is  essential  to  all  human  improvement,  could  no 
more  exist,  among  a  numerous  and  scattered  population,  than 
the  commerce  of  disconnected  continents  could  traverse  the 
ocean  without  the  art  of  navigation.  Here,  then,  is  the  source 
of  our  superiority,  and  our  just  pride  as  a  nation.  The  states- 
men of  the  remotest  extremes  of  the  Union  can  converse  to- 
gether, like  the  philosophers  of  Athens,  in  the  same  portico,  or 
the  politicians  of  Rome  in  the  same  forum.  Distance  is  over- 
come, and  the  citizens  of  Georgia  and  of  Maine  can  be  brought 
to  cooperate  in  the  same  great  object,  with  as  perfect  a  com- 
munity of  views  and  feelings  as  actuated  the  tribes  of  Rome  in 
the  assemblies  of  the  people.  It  is  obvious  that  liberty  has  a 
more  extensive  and  durable  foundation  in  the  United  States  than 
it  ever  has  had  in  any  other  age  or  country.  By  the  repre- 
sentative principle  —  a  principle  unknown  and  impracticable 
among  the  ancients  —  the  whole  mass  of  society  is  brought  to 
operate  in  constraining  the  action  of  power,  and  in  the  conser- 
vation of  public  liberty. 


Eulogy  on   Washington.—  J. M. Mason. 

It  must  ever  be  difficult  to  compare  the  merits  of  Washing- 
ton's characters,  because  he  always  appeared  greatest  in  that 
which  he  last  sustained.  Yet,  if  there  is  a  preference,  it  must 
be  assigned  to  the  lieutenant  general  of  the  armies  of  Amer- 
ica. Not  because  the  duties  of  that  station  were  more  arduous 
tban  those  which  he  had  often  performed,  but  because  it  more 
fully  displayed  his  magnanimity.  While  others  become  great 
by  elevation,  Washington  becomes  greater  by  condescension. 
Matchless  patriot !  to  stoop,  on  public  motives,  to  an  inferior 
appointment,  after  possessing  and  dignifying  the  highest  offices  ! 
Thrice  favored  country  which  boasts  of  such  a  citizen  !  We 
gaze  with  astonishment :  we  exult  that  we  are  Americans.  We 
augur  every  thing  great,  *^nd  good,  and  happy.  But  whence 
this  sudden  horror  ?  What  means  that  cry  of  agony  ?  O, 
tis  the  shriek  of  America  !  The  fairy  vision  is  fled  :  Washing- 
ton is  —  no  more  !  — 

"  How  are  the  mighty  fallen,  and  the  weapons  of  war  perished  '  " 


INTELLECTUAL   AND   COMMERCIAL   WAISTS.        257 

Daughters  of  America,  who  have  prepared  the  festal  bower 
and  the  laurel  wreath,  plant  now  the  cypress  grove,  and  water 
it  with  tears. 


Eulogy  on  Hamilton. —Worn. 

He  stood  on  an  eminence,  and  glory  covered  him.  From 
that  eminence  he  has  fallen  —  suddenly,  forever  fallen.  His 
intercourse  with  the  living  world  is  now  ended ;  and  those  who 
would  hereafter  find  him  must  seek  him  in  the  grave.  There, 
cold  and  lifeless,  is  the  heart  which  just  now  was  the  seat  of 
friendship.  There,  dim  and  sightless,  is  the  eye  whose  radiant 
and  enlivening  orb  beamed  with  intelligence ;  and  there,  closed 
forever,  are  those  lips,  on  whose  persuasive  accents  we  have  so 
often,  and  so  lately,  hung  with  transport.  From  the  darkness 
which  rests  upon  his  tomb  there  proceeds,  methinks,  a  light  in 
which  it  is  clearly  seen  that  those  gaudy  objects  which  men 
pursue  are  only  phantoms.  In  this  light  how  dimly  shines  the 
splendor  of  victory  !  how  humble  appears  the  majesty  of  gran- 
deur !  The  bubble,  which  seemed  to  have  so  much  solidity,  has 
burst ;  and  we  again  see  that  all  below  the  sun  is  vanity. 

Approach,  and  behold,  while  I  lift  from  his  sepulcher  its 
covering.  Ye  admirers  of  his  greatness,  ye  emulous  of  his 
talents  and  his  fame,  approach,  and  behold  him  now.  How 
pale  !  How  silent !  No  martial  bands  admire  the  adroitness 
of  his  movements ;  no  fascinated  throng  weep,  and  melt,  and 
tremble  at  his  eloquence.  Amazing  change  !  A  shroud !  a 
coffin  !  a  narrow,  subterraneous  cabin  !  This  is  all  that  now 
remains  of  Hamilton. 


Intellectual  and  Commercial   Wants.  —  J.  C.  Calhoun. 

The  great  principle  of  demand  and  supply  govern  the  moral 
and  intellectu;il  world  no  less  than  the  business  and  commercial. 
If  a  community  be  so  organized  as  to  cause  a  demand  for  high 
mental  attainments,  they  are  sure  to  be  developed.  If  its  honors 
and  rewards  are  allotted  to  pursuits  that  require  their  develop- 
ment, by  creating  a  demand  for  intelligence,  knowledge,  wisdom, 
justice,  firmness,  courage,  patriotism,  and  the  like,  they  are  sure 
to  l><  produced.  But,  if  allotted  to  pursuits  that  require  inferior 
quali'ies,  the  higher  are  sure  to  decay  and  perish. 


258  ROSS'S   SPEAKER. 

1  object  to  the  banking  system,  because  it  allots  the  honors 
and  rewards  of  the  community,  in  a  very  undue  proportion,  to  a 
pursuit  the  least  of  all  others  favorable  to  the  development  of 
the  higher  mental  qualities,  intellectual  or  moral,  to  the  decay 
of  the  learned  professions,  and  the  more  noble  pursuits  of  science, 
literature,  philosophy,  and  statesmanship,  and  the  great  and  more 
useful  pursuits  of  business  and  industry.  With  the  vast  increase 
of  its  profits  and  influence,  it  is  gradually  concentrating  in  itself 
most  of  the  prizes  of  life,  —  wealth,  honor,  and  influence,  —  to 
the  great  disparagement  and  degradation  of  all  the  liberal,  and 
useful,  and  generous  pursuits  of  society. 

The  rising  generation  can  not  but  feel  its  deadening  influence. 
The  youths  who  crowd  our  colleges,  and  behold  the  road  to 
honor  and  distinction  terminating  in  a  banking  house,  will  feel 
the  spirit  of  emulation  decay  within  them,  and  will  no  longer  be 
pressed  forward  by  generous  ardor  to  mount  up  the  rugged 
steep  of  science,  as  the  road  to  honor  and  distinction,  when, 
perhaps,  the  highest  point  they  could  attain  in  what  was  once 
the  most  honorable  and  influential  of  all  the  learned  professions, 
would  be  the  place  of  attorney  to  a  bank. 


The  Patriotism  of  the  West  —  Clat. 

No  portion  of  your  population  is  more  loyal  to  the  Union  than 
the  hardy  freemen  of  the  West.  Nothing  can  weaken  or  eradi- 
cate their  ardent  desire  for  its  lasting  preservation.  None  are 
more  prompt  to  vindicate  the  interests  and  rights  of  the  nation 
from  all  foreign  aggression.  Need  I  remind  you  of  the  glorious 
scenes  in  which  they  participated  during  the  late  war — a  war 
in  which  they  had  no  peculiar  or  direct  interest,  waged  for  no 
commerce,  no  seamen  of  theirs.  But  it  was  enough  for  them 
that  it  was  a  war  demanded  by  the  character  and  the  honor  of 
the  nation.  They  did  not  stop  to  calculate  its  costs  of  blood  or 
of  treasure. 

They  flew  to  arms ;  they  rushed  down  the  valley  of  the  Mis- 
sissippi, with  all  the  impetuosity  of  that  noble  river.  They 
sought  the  enemy.  They  found  him  at  the  beach.  They 
fought ;  they  bled ;  they  covered  themselves  and  their  country 
with  immortal  glory.  They  enthusiastically  shared  in  all  the 
transports  occasioned  by  our  victories,  whether  won  on  the 
ocean  or  on  the  land.  They  felt,  with  the  keenest  distress, 
whatever  disaster  befell  us.     No,  sir,  I  repeat  it,  neglect,  injury 


HECTOR'S  ATTACK  ON  THE  GRECIAN   WALLS.      259 

itself,  can  not  alienate  the  affections  of  the  West  from  this  govern- 
ment. They  cling  to  it  as  to  their  best,  their  greatest,  thei.  last 
hope.  You  may  impoverish  them,  reduce  them  to  ruin,  b  j  the 
mistakes  of  your  policy,  but  you  can  not  drive  them  from  5  :>u. 


Hector's  Attack  on  the  Grecian  Walls.  —  Poph's.  .om 

Then  godlike  Hector  and  his  troops  contend 

To  force  the  ramparts,  and  the  gates  to  rend  ; 

Nor  Troy  could  conquer,  nor  the  Greeks  would  yiel 

Till  great  Sarpedon  towered  amid  the  field  : 

In  arms  he  shines,  conspicuous,  from  afar, 

And  bears  aloft  his  ample  shield  in  air, 

And  while  two  pointed  javelins  arm  his  hands, 

Majestic  moves  along,  and  leads  his  Lycian  bands. 

So,  pressed  with  hunger,  from  the  mountain  brow 

Descends  a  lion  on  the  flocks  below ; 

So  stalks  the  lordly  savage  o'er  the  plain, 

In  sullen  majesty  and  stern  disdain  : 

In  vain  loud  mastiffs  bay  him  from  afar, 

And  shepherds  gall  him  with  an  iron  war ; 

Regardless,  furious,  he  pursues  his  way ; 

He  foams,  he  roars,  he  rends  the  panting  prey. 

Unmoved,  th'  embodied  Greeks  their  fury  dare, 

And,  fixed,  support  the  weight  of  all  the  war; 

Nor  could  the  Greeks  repel  the  Lycian  powers, 

Nor  the  bold  Lycians  force  the  Grecian  towers. 

As,  on  the  confines  of  adjoining  grounds, 

Two  stubborn  swains  with  blows  dispute  their  bounds. 

They  tug,  they  sweat,  but  neither  gain  nor  yield 

One  foot,  one  inch  of  the  contested  field, 

Thus,  obstinate  to  death,  they  fight,  they  fall ; 

Nor  these  can  keep,  nor  those  can  win  the  wall. 

Their  manly  breasts  are  pierced  with  many  a  wound ; 

Loud  strokes  are  heard,  and  rattling  arms  resound ; 

The  copious  slaughter  covers  all  the  shore, 

And  the  high  ramparts  drop  with  human  gore 

As  when  two  scales  are  charged  with  doubtful  loads, 
From  side  to  side  the  trembling  balance  nods, 


260  ROSS'S   SPEAKER. 

(While  some  laborious  matron,  just  and  poor, 
With  nice  exactness  weighs  her  woolly  store,) 
Till,  poised  aloft,  the  resting  beam  suspends 
Each  equal  weight ;  nor  this,  nor  that,  descends. 
So  stood  the  war,  till  Hector's  matchless  might, 
With  fates  prevailing,  turned  the  scale  of  fight. 

Fierce  as  a  whirlwind  up  the  walls  he  flies, 
And  fires  his  hosts  with  loud-repeated  cries. 
"  Advance,  ye  Trojans  ;  lend  your  valiant  hands  , 
Haste  to  the  fleet,  and  toss  the  blazing  brands." 
They  hear,  they  run  ;  and,  gathering  at  his  call, 
Raise  scaling  engines,  and  ascend  the  wall : 
Around  the  works  a  wood  of  glittering  spears 
Shoots  up,  and  all  the  rising  host  appears. 

A  ponderous  stone  bold  Hector  heaved  to  throw, 

Pointed  above,  and  rough  and  gross  below  : 

Not  two  strong  men  the  enormous  weight  could  raise 

Such  men  as  live  in  these  degenerate  days. 

Yet  this,  as  easy  as  a  swain  could  bear 

The  snowy  fleece,  he  tossed,  and  shook  in  air : 

Thus  armed,  before  the  folded  gates  he  came, 

Of  massy  substance  and  stupendous  frame, 

With  iron  bars  and  brazen  hinges  strong, 

On  lofty  beams  of  solid  timber  hung  : 

Then  thundering  through  the  planks,  with  forceful  swaj 

Drives  the  sharp  rock  ;  the  solid  beams  give  way ; 

The  folds  are  shattered ;  from  the  crackling  door 

Leap  the  resounding  bars,  the  flying  hinges  roar. 

Now  rushing  in,  the  furious  chief  appears, 

Gloomy  as  night,  and  shakes  two  shining  spears : 

A  dreadful  gleam  from  his  bright  armor  came, 

And  from  his  eyeballs  flashed  the  living  flame. 

He  moves  a  god,  resistless  in  his  course, 

And  seems  a  match  for  more  than  mortal  force. 

Then  pouring  after,  through  the  gaping  space 

A  tide  of  Trojans  flows,  and  fills  the  place ; 

The  Greeks  behold,  they  tremble,  and  they  fly  ; 

The  shore  is  heaped  with  death,  and  tumult  rends  the  sky 


FOIiEIUN    POLICY    OF   WASHINGTON.  261 


Progress  of  the  Age.  —  Kdwabd  Evbbbtt 

We  need  the  spirit  of  '75  to  guide  us  safely  amid  the  dizzy 
activities  of  the  times.  While  our  own  numbers  are  increasing 
in  an  unexampled  ratio,  Europe  is  pouring  in  upon  us  her  hun- 
dreds of  thousands  annually,  and  new  regions  are  added  to  our 
domain,  which  we  are  obliged  to  count  by  degrees  of  latitude 
and  longitude.  In  the  mean  time,  the  most  wonderful  discoveries 
of  art,  and  the  most  mysterious  powers  of  nature,  combine  to 
give  an  almost  fearful  increase  to  the  intensity  of  our  existence. 
Machines  of  unexampled  complication  and  ingenuity  have  been 
applied  to  the  whole  range  of  human  industry  :  we  rush  across 
the  land  and  the  sea  by  steam ;  we  correspond  by  magnetism  ; 
we  paint  by  the  solar  ray  ;  we  count  the  beats  of  the  electric 
clock  at  the  distance  of  a  thousand  miles ;  we  annihilate  time 
and  distance ;  and,  amidst  all  the  new  agencies  of  communica- 
tion and  action,  the  omnipotent  Press  —  the  great  engine  of 
modern  progress,  not  superseded  or  impaired,  but  gathering  new 
power  from  all  the  arts  —  is  daily  clothing  itself  with  louder 
thunders.  While  we  contemplate  with  admiration  —  almost 
with  awe  —  the  mighty  influences  which  surround  us,  and  which 
demand  our  cooperation  and  our  guidance,  let  our  hearts  over- 
flow with  gratitude  to  the  patriots  who  have  handed  down  to  ua 
this  great  inheritance.  Let  us  strive  to  furnish  ourselves,  from 
the  storehouse  of  their  example,  with  the  principles  and  virtues 
which  will  strengthen  us  for  the  performance  of  an  honored  part 
on  this  illustrious  stage.  Let  pure  patriotism  add  its  bond  to  the 
bars  of  iron  which  are  binding  the  continent  together  ;  and,  as 
intelligence  shoots  with  the  electric  spark  from  ocean  to  ocean, 
let  public  spirit  and  love  of  country  catch  from  heart  to  heart. 


The  Foreign  Policy  of  Washington. 

Charles  Jambs  Fox, 

How  infinitely  superior  must  appear  the  spirit  and  principles 
of  General  Washington,  in  his  late  address  to  Congress,  com 
pared  with  the  policy  of  modern  European  courts  !  Illustrious 
man!  —  deriving  honor  less  from  the  splendor  of  his  situation 
than  from  the  dignity  of  his  mind.  Grateful  to  France  for  the 
assistance  received  from  her  in  that  great  contest  which  secured 
the  independence  of  America,  '"•  yel  did  not  choose  to  give  up 


262  ROSS'S   SPEAKER 

the  system  of  neutrality  in  her  favor.  Having  once  laid  down 
the  line  of  conduct  most  proper  to  be  pursued,  not  all  the  insults 
and  provocations  of  the  French  minister,  Genet,*  could  at  all 
put  him  out  of  his  way,  or  bend  him  from  his  purpose.  It  must, 
indeed,  create  astonishment,  that,  placed  in  circumstances  so 
critical,  and  filling  a  station  so  conspicuous,  the  character  of 
Washington  should  never  once  have  been  called  in  question  — 
that  he  should  in  no  one  instance  have  been  accused  either  of 
improper  insolence,  or  of  mean  submission,  in  his  transactions 
with  foreign  nations.  It  has  been  reserved  for  him  to  run  the 
nice  of  glory  without  experiencing  the  smallest  interruption  to 
the  brilliancy  of  his  career.  The  breath  of  censure  has  not 
dared  to  impeach  the  purity  of  his  conduct,  nor  the  eye  of  envy 
to  raise  its  malignant  glance  to  the  elevation  of  his  virtues. 
Such  has  been  the  transcendent  merit  and  the  unparalleled  fate 
of  this  illustrious  man. 

How  did  he  act  when  insulted  by  Genet  ?  Did  he  consider  it 
as  necessary  to  avenge  himself  for  the  misconduct  or  madness 
of  an  individual  by  involving  a  whole  continent  in  the  horrors  of 
war  ?  No  ;  he  contented  himself  with  procuring  satisfaction  for 
the  insult,  by  causing  Genet  to  be  recalled  ;  and  thus,  at  once, 
consulted  his  own  dignity  and  the  interests  of  his  country.  Happy 
Americans !  while  the  whirlwind  flies  over  one  quarter  of  the 
globe,  and  spreads  every  where  desolation,  you  remain  protected 
from  its  baneful  effects  by  your  own  virtues  and  the  wisdom  of 
your  government.  Separated  from  Europe  by  an  immense 
ocean,  you  feel  not  the  effect  of  those  prejudices  and  passions 
which  convert  the  boasted  seats  of  civilization  into  scenes  of 
horror  and  bloodshed.  You  profit  by  the  folly  and  madness  of 
the  contending  nations,  and  afford,  in  your  more  congenial 
clime,  an  asylum  to  those  blessings  and  virtues  which  they  wan- 
tonly contemn  or  wickedly  exclude  from  their  bosom.  Culti- 
vating the  arts  of  peace  under  the  influence  of  freedom,  yott 
advance,  by  rapid  strides,  to  opulence  and  distinction ;  and  if, 
by  any  accident,  you  should  be  compelled  to  take  part  in  the 
present  unhappy  contest,  —  if  you  should  find  it  necessary  to 
avenge  insult  or  repel  injury,  —  the  world  will  bear  witness  to 
the  equity  of  your  sentiments  and  the  moderation  of  your  views ; 
and  the  success  of  your  arms  will,  no  doubt,  be  proportioned  to 
the  justice  of  your  cause. 

*  Pronounced  Zkennag. 


A  REPUBLIC  THE   STRONGEST   GOVERNMENT.      263 


A  Republic  the  Strongest  Government. 

T.  Jefferson, 
[From  his  inaugural  address,  as  president  of  the  United  States, 


During  the  tnroes  and  convulsions  of  the  ancient  world,— 
during  the  agonizing  spasms  of  infuriated  man,  seeking,  through 
blood  and  slaughter,  his  long-lost  liberty,  —  it  was  not  wonderful 
that  the  agitation  of  the  billows  should  reach  even  this  distant 
and  peaceful  shore ;  that  this  should  be  more  felt  tr.d  feared 
by  some,  and  less  by  others,  and  should  divide  opinions  as  to 
measures  of  safety.  But  every  difference  of  opinion  is  not  a 
difference  of  principle.  We  have  called  by  different  names 
brethren  of  the  same  principle.  We  are  all  republicans  :  we 
are  all  federalists.  If  there  be  any  among  us  who  would  wish 
to  dissolve  this  Union,  or  to  change  its  republican  form,  let  them 
stand,  undisturbed,  as  monuments  of  the  safety  with  which  error 
of  opinion  may  be  tolerated  where  reason  is  left  free  to  combat 
it.  I  know,  indeed,  that  some  honest  men  fear  a  republican 
government  can  not  be  strong  —  that  this  government  is  not 
strong  enough.  But  would  the  honest  patriot,  in  the  full  tide  of 
successful  experiment,  abandon  a  government  which  has  so  far 
kept  us  free  and  firm,  on  the  theoretic  and  visionary  fear  that 
this  government,  the  world's  best  hope,  may,  by  possibility,  want 
energy  to  preserve  itself  ?  I  trust  not.  I  believe  this,  on  the 
contrary,  the  strongest  government  on  earth.  I  believe  it  the 
only  one  where  every  man,  at  the  call  of  the  law,  would  fly  to 
the  standard  of  the  law,  and  would  meet  invasions  of  the  public 
order  as  his  own  personal  concern.  Sometimes  it  is  said  that 
man  can  not  be  trusted  with  the  government  of  himself.  Can  he, 
then,  be  trusted  with  the  government  of  others  ?  Or  have  we 
found  angels,  in  the  form  of  kings,  to  govern  him  ?  Lat  history 
answer  this  question. 

Let  us,  then,  with  courage  and  confidence,  pursue  our  own 
federal  and  republican  principles  —  our  attachment  to  union 
and  representative  government.  Kindly  separated  by  nature 
and  a  wide  ocean  from  the  exterminating  havoc  of  one  quarter 
of  the  globe ;  too  high-minded  to  endure  the  degradations  of 
the  others  ;  possessing  a  chosen  country,  with  room  enough  for 
our  descendants  to  the  thousandth  and  thousandth  generation ; 
entertaining  a  due  sense  of  our  equal  right  to  the  use  of  our 
c*n  faculties,  to  the  acquisitions  of  our  own  industry,  to  hono* 


261  HOSS'S  SPEAKER. 

and  confidence  from  our  fellow-citizens,  resulting  not  from  birth 
but  from  our  actions,  and  their  sense  of  them ;  enlightened  by 
a  benign  religion,  professed,  indeed,  and  practised  in  various 
forms,  yet  all  of  them  inculcating  honesty,  truth,  temperance, 
gratitude,  and  the  love  of  man ;  acknowledging  and  adoring  an 
overruling  Providence,  which,  by  all  its  dispensations,  proves 
that  it  delights  in  the  happiness  of  man  here,  and  his  greater 
happiness  hereafter,  —  with  all  these  blessings,  what  more  is 
necessary  to  make  us  a  happy  and  prosperous  people  ? 

Still  one  thing  more,  fellow-citizens  :  a  wise  and  frugal  govern- 
ment, which  shall  restrain  men  from  injuring  one  another,  shall 
leave  them  otherwise  free  to  regulate  their  own  pursuits  of 
industry  and  improvement,  and  shall  not  take  from  the  mouth  of 
labor  the  bread  it  has  earned  —  this  is  the  sum  of  good  govern- 
ment ;  and  this  is  necessary  to  close  the  circle  of  our  felicities 


Scene  from  Pizarro.  —  Kotzbbub. 

Pizaero  and  Gomes. 

Pizarro.     How  now,  Gomez  —  what  bringest  thou  ? 

Gomez.     On  yonder  hill,  among  the  palm  trees,  we  have  sur 
prised  an  old  Peruvian.     Escape  by  flight  he  could  not,  and  we 
seized  him  unresisting. 

Piz.  Drag  him  before  us.  (Gomez  leads  in  Orozemho.)  — 
What  art  thou,  stranger  ? 

Oro.  First  tell  me  who  is  the  captain  of  this  band  of  rob- 
bers ? 

Piz.  Audacious  !  This  insolence  has  sealed  thy  doom.  Die 
thou  shalt,  gray-headed  ruffian.  But  first  confess  what  thou 
Vnowest. 

Oro.     I  know  that  which  thou  hast  just  assured  me  of —  *hat 
shall  die. 

Piz.     Less  audacity  might  have  preserved  thy  life. 

Oro.     My  life  is  as  a  withered  tree,  not  worth  preserving. 

Piz.  Hear  me,  old  man.  Even  now  we  march  against  the 
Peruvian  army.  We  know  there  is  a  secret  path  that  leads  to 
your  stronghold  among  the  rocks.  Guide  us  to  that,  and  name 
thy  reward.     If  wealth  be  thy  wish 

Oro.     Ha,  ha,  ha  ! 

Piz.     Dost  thou  despise  my  offer  ? 

Oro.  Yes,  thee  and  thy  offer.  Wealth  !  —  I  have  the  wealth 
of  two  gallant  sons.     I  have  stored  in  heaven  the  riches  which 


SCENE   FROM  PLZARRO.  2«5 

repay  good  actions  here  ;  and  still  my  chiefest  treasure  do  I 
wear  about  tne. 

Piz.     What  is  that  ?     Inform  me. 

Oro.  I  will,  for  thou  canst  never  tear  it  from  me  —  an  ul- 
sullied  conscience. 

Piz.  I  believe  there  is  no  other  Peruvian  who  dares  speak  ax 
thou  dost. 

Oro.  Would  I  could  believv  there  is  no  other  Spaniard  who 
dares  act  as  thou  dost. 

Gom.   Obdurate  pagan,  how  numerous  is  your  army  i 

Oro.    Count  the  leaves  of  the  forest. 

Gom.   Which  is  the  weakest  part  of  your  camp  ? 

Oro.    It  is  fortified  on  all  sides  by  justice. 

Gom.   Where  have  you  concealed  your  wives  and  children  i 

Oro.    In  the  hearts  of  their  husbands  and  fathers. 

Piz.     Knowest  thou  Alonzo  ? 

Oro.  Know  him !  Alonzo !  Our  nation's  benefactor,  the 
guardian  angel  of  Peru  ! 

Piz.     By  what  has  he  merited  that  title  ? 

Oro.    By  not  resembling  thee. 

Piz.     Who  is  this  Rolla,  joined  with  Alonzo  in  command  ? 

Oro.  I  will  answer  that,  for  I  love  to  speak  the  hero's  name. 
Rolla,  the  kinsman  of  the  king,  is  the  idol  of  our  army  —  in  war 
a  tiger,  in  peace  a  lamb.  Cora  was  once  betrothed  to  him,  but 
finding  she  preferred  Alonzo,  he  resigned  his  ciiim  for  Ccra's 
happiness. 

Piz.     Romantic  savage  !     I  shall  meet  this  Rolla  soon. 

Oro.  Thou  hadst  better  not ;  the  terrors  of  his  noble  eye 
would  strike  thee  dead. 

Gom.    Silence,  or  tremble  ! 

Oro.  Beardless  robber,  I  never  yet  have  learned  to  tremble 
before  man  —  why  before  thee,  thou  less  than  man  ? 

Gom.     Another  word,  audacious  heathen,  and  I  strike. 

Oro.  Strike,  Christian  ;  then  boast  among  thy  fellows,  "  1 
tro  have  murdered  a  Peruvian." 


The  Same.     Second  Scene. 

Sentinel,  Rolla,  and  Alonzo. 

(Enter  Rolla,  disguised  as  a  monk.) 
Rolla.      Inform  me,  friend  —  is  Alonzo,  the  Peruvian,  confined 
ui  this  dungeon  ? 


,66  ROSS'S   SPEAKER. 

Sent.     He  is. 

Rolla.     I  must  speak  with  him. 

Sent.     You  must  not. 

Rolla.     He  is  my  friend. 

Sent.     Not  if  he  were  your  brother. 

Rolla.     What  is  to  be  his  fate? 

Sent.     He  dies  at  sunrise. 

Rolla.     Ha  !  then  I  am  come  in  time 

Sent.     Just  to  witness  his  death. 

Rolla.  {Advancing  towards  the  door.)  Soldier,  I  must 
speak  with  him. 

Sent.     (Pushing  him  back.)     Back  !  back  !  it  is  impossible. 

Rolla.     I  do  entreat  you  but  for  one  moment. 

Sent .     You  entreat  in  vain  :  my  orders  are  most  strict. 

Rolla.  Look  on  this  wedge  of  massy  gold  ;  look  on  these 
precious  gems.  In  thy  land  they  will  be  wealth  for  thee  and 
thine  beyond  thy  hope  or  wish.  Take  them  —  they  are  thine  ; 
let  me  but  pass  one  moment  with  Alonzo. 

Sent .  Away  !  Wouldst  thou  corrupt  me?  —  me,  an  old 
Castilian  !     I  know  my  duty  better. 

Rolla.     Soldier,  hast  thou  a  wife  ? 

Sent.     I  have. 

Rolla.     Hast  thou  children  ? 

Sent.     Four  —  honest,  lovely  boys. 

Rolla.     Where  didst  thou  leave  them  ? 

Sent.     In  my  native  village,  in  the  very  cot  where  I  was  born. 

Rolla.     Dost  thou  love  thy  wife  and  children  ? 

Sent.     Do  I  love  them  ?     God  knows  my  heart  —  I  do. 

Rolla.  Soldier,  imagine  thou  wert  doomed  to  die  a  cruel 
death  in  a  strange  land  —  what  would  be  thy  last  request  ? 

Sent.  That  some  of  my  comrades  should  carry  my  dying 
blessing  to  my  wife  and  children. 

Rolla.  What  if  that  comrade  was  at  thy  prison  door  and 
should  there  be  told  thy  fellow-soldier  dies  at  sunrise,  yet  thou 
shalt  not  for  a  moment  see  him,  nor  shalt  thou  bear  his  dying 
blessing  to  his  poor  children  or  his  wretched  wife,  —  what 
wouldst  thou  think  of  him  who  thus  could  drive  thy  comrade 
from  the  door  ? 

Sent.     How  ? 

Rolla.  Alonzo  has  a  wife  and  child ;  and  I  am  come  but  to 
receive  for  her,  and  for  her  poor  babe,  the  last  blessing  of  my 
friend. 

Sent.     Go  in.     (Exit  sentinel.) 

Rolla.     (Calls.)    Alonzo!  Alonzo! 


SCENE  FROM   PIZARRO.  267 

(Enter  Alonzo,  speaking  as  he  comes  in.) 

Alon      How  !  is  my  hour  elapsed  ?     Well,  I  am  ready. 

RolLi.     Alonzo  !  —  know  me  ! 

Alon.     Rolla !     0  Rolla  !  how  didst  thou  pass  the  guard  ? 

Rolla.  There  is  not  a  moment  to  be  lost  in  words.  This 
disguise  I  tore  from  the  dead  body  of  a  friar,  as  I  passed  our 
field  of  battle.  It  has  gained  me  entrance  to  thy  dungeon  :  now 
lake  it  thou,  and  fly  ! 

A  hn.     And  Rolla 

Rolla      Will  remain  here  in  thy  place. 

Alon.     And  die  for  me  !     No  !  rather  eternal  tortures  racK  me 

Rolla.  I  shall  not  die,  Alonzo.  It  is  thy  life  Pizarro  seeks 
not  Rolla's ;  and  thy  arm  may  soon  deliver  me  from  prison. 
Or,  should  it  be  otherwise,  I  am  as  a  blighted  tree  in  the  desert ; 
nothing  lives  beneath  my  shelter.  Thou  art  a  husband  and  a 
father  :  the  being  of  a  lovely  wife  and  helpless  infant  depend 
upon  thy  life.  Go,  go,  Alonzo  !  not  to  save  thyself,  but  Cora 
and  thy  child. 

Alon.  Urge  me  not  thus,  my  friend.  I  am  prepared  to  die 
in  peace. 

Rolla.  To  die  in  peace  !  devoting  her  you  have  sworn  to 
live  for,  to  madness,  misery,  and  death ! 

Alon.     Merciful  Heavens  ! 

Rolla.  If  thou  art  yet  irresolute,  Alonzo,  —  now  mark  me 
well.  Thou  knowest  that  Rolla  never  pledged  his  word  and 
shrunk  from  its  fulfillment.  Know  then,  if  thou  art  proudly 
obstinate,  thou  shalt  have  the  desperate  triumph  of  seeing  Rolla 
perish  by  thy  side. 

Alon.  O  Rolla,  you  distract  me.  Wear  you  the  robe,  and 
though  dreadful  the  necessity,  we  will  strike  down  the  guard, 
and  force  our  passage. 

Rolla.     What,  the  soldier  on  duty  here  ? 

Alon.     Yes,  else  seeing  two,  the  alarm  will  be  instant  death. 

Rolla.  For  my  nation'3  safety,  I  would  not  harm  him.  That 
soldier — mark  me  —  is  a  man.  All  are  not  men  that  wear  the 
human  form.  He  refused  my  prayers,  refused  my  gold,  denying 
to  admit,  till  his  own  feelings  bribed  him.  I  will  not  risk  a  hair 
of  that  man's  head  to  save  my  heartstrings  from  consuming  fire. 
But  haste.     A  moment's  further  pause,  and  all  is  lost. 

Alon.  Rolla,  I  fear  thy  friendship  drives  me  from  honor  and 
from  right. 

Rolla.  Did  Rolla  ever  counsel  dishonor  to  his  friend  ? 
^Throwing  the  friar^s  garment  over  his  shoulders.)  There 
conceal  thv  face.     Now,  God  be  whh  thee. 


368  ROSS'S  SPEAKER. 


American  Aristocracy.  —  J.  O  8am 

Of  all  the  notable  things  on  earth, 
The  queerest  one  is  pride  of  birth 

Among  our  "  fierce  democracy." 
A  bridge  across  a  hundred  years, 
Without  a  prop  to  save  it  from  sneers, 
Not  even  a  couple  of  rotten  peers  — 
A  thing  for  laughter,  fleers,  and  jeers, 

Is  American  aristocracy. 

English  and  Irish,  French  and  Spanish 
Germans,  Italians,  Dutch,  and  Danish, 
Crossing  their  veins  until  they  vanish 

In  one  conglomeration ! 
So  subtle  a  tinge  of  blood,  indeed, 
No  Heraldry  Harvey  will  ever  succeed 

In  finding  the  circulation. 

Depend  upon  it,  my  snobbish  friend, 
Your  family  thread  you  can't  ascend, 
Without  good  reason  to  apprehend 
You  may  find  it  waxed  at  the  other  end 

By  some  plebeian  vocation  ; 
Or,  worse  than  that,  your  boasted  line 
May  end  in  a  loop  of  stronger  twine, 

That  plagued  some  worthy  relation. 


Pedantry.  —  anon. 

Characters.  — Digit,  a  mathematician;  Trill,  a  musician  ;  Sesquipb^a- 
lia,  a  linguist  and  philosopher;  Drone,  a  servant  of  Mr.  MorreKk  in 
•whose  house  the  scene  is  laid. 

(Digit,  alone.) 
Digit.  If  theologians  are  in  want  of  a  proof  that  mankind  nrr 
daily  degenerating,  let  them  apply  to  me,  Archimedes  Digit.  I 
can  furnish  them  with  one  as  clear  as  any  demonstration  in 
Euclid's  third  or  fifth  book;  and  it  is  this  —  the  sublime  and 
exalted  science  of  mathematics  is  falling  into  general  disuse. 
O  that  the  patriotic  inhabitants  of  this  extensive  country  should 
suffer  so  degrading  a  circumstance  to  exis*!     Why,  yesterday 


TEDANTRY.  269 

\  asked  a  lad  of  fifteen  which  he  preferred,  algebra  or  geome- 
try;  and  ha  told  me  —  O,  horrible!  —  he  told  me  he  had  never 
studied  them.  I  was  thunderstruck,  I  was  astonished,  I  was 
petrified.  Never  studied  geometry  !  never  studied  algebra  !  and 
fifteen  years  old!  The  dark  ages  are  returning.  Heathenish 
obscurity  will  soon  overwhelm  the  world,  unless  I  do  something 
immediately  to  enlighten  it ;  and  for  this  purpose  I  have  now 
applied  to  Mr.  Morrell  ^vho  lives  here,  and  is  celebrated  for  his 
patronage  of  learning  afld  learned  men.  (A  knock  at  the  door.) 
Who  waits  there  ? 

{Enter  Drone.) 
Is  Mr.  Morrell  at  home  ? 

Drone.  (Speaking  very  slow.)  Can't  say  ;  s'pose  he  is ;  indeed, 
I  am  sure  he  is,  or  was  just  now. 

Digit.  Why,  I  could  solve  an  equation  while  you  are  answer- 
ing a  question  of  five  words — I  mean  if  the  unknown  terms 
were  all  on  one  side  of  the  equation.     Can  I  see  him  ? 

Drone.  There  is  nobody  in  this  house  by  the  name  of  Qua- 
tion. 

Digit.  (Aside.)  Now,  here's  a  fellow  that  can  not  distinguish 
between  an  algebraic  term  and  the  denomination  of  his  master. 

—  I  wish  to  see  Mr.  Morrell  upon  an  affair  of  infinite  importance. 
Drone.     O,  very  likely,  sir.     I  will  inform  him  that  Mr.  Qua- 

tion  wishes  to  see  him  (mimicking)  upon  an  affair  of  infinite 
importance. 

Digit.  No,  no.  Digit  —  Digit.  My  name  is  Digit. 
Drone.  0,  Mr.  Digy-Digy  !  Very  likely.  (Exit  Drone.) 
Digit.  (Alone.)  That  fellow  is  certainly  a  negative  quantity. 
He  is  minus  common  sense.  If  this  Mr.  Morrell  is  the  man  1 
take  him  to  be,  he  can  not  but  patronize  my  talents.  Should  he 
not,  I  don't  know  how  I  shall  obtain  a  new  coat.  I  have  worn 
this  ever  since  I  began  to  write  my  theory  of  sines  and  cotan- 
gents ;  and  my  elbows  have  so  often  formed  right  angles  with 
the  plane  surface  of  my  table,  that  a  new  coat  or  a  parallel  patch 
is  very  necessary.     But  here  comes  Mr.  Morrell. 

(Enter  Sesquipedalia.) 
Sir,  (bowing  low,)  I  am  your  most  mathematical  servant.     I  am 
eorry,  sir,  to  give  you  this  iroubh'  ;  but  an  affair  of  consequence 

—  (pulling  the  rai^s  oner  his  elbows)  —  an  affair  of  consequence, 
as  your  servant  informed  you 

Sesquipedalia.      Serrus  non  est   mi  hi.  dmnine;  that  is,  I  have 
no  servant  sir.      I  presume  you  have  (tried  in  your  caleuYtion 
und 

Digit.     No,  sir     The  calculations  I  am  about  to  present  yow 


270  ROSS'S   SPEAKER. 

are  founded  on  the  most  co  rect  theorems  of  Euclid.  You  may 
examine  them,  if  you  pleasu.  They  are  contained  in  this  small 
manuscript.     {Producing  a  folio.) 

Sesq.  Sir,  you  have  bestowed  a  degree  of  interruption  upon 
my  observations.  I  was  about — or,  according  to  the  Latins,  fu- 
turns  sum —  to  give  you  a  little  information  concerning  the  lumi- 
nary who  appears  to  lave  deceived  your  vision.  My  name,  sir, 
is  Tullius  Maro  Titus  Crispus  Sesquipedalia ;  by  profession  a 
linguist  and  philosopher.  The  most  abstruse  points  in  physics  or 
metaphysics  are  to  me  transparent  as  ether.  I  have  come  to 
this  house  for  the  purpose  of  obtaining  the  patronage  of  a  gentle- 
man who  befriends  all  the  literati.  Now,  sir,  perhaps  I  have 
induced  conviction  in  mente  tua  —  that  is,  in  your  mind  —  that 
your  calculation  was  erroneous. 

Digit.  Yes,  sir,  as  to  your  person  I  was  mistaken ;  but  my 
calculations,  I  maintain,  are  correct,  to  the  tenth  part  of  a  circu- 
lating decimal. 

Sesq.  But  what  is  the  subject  of  your  manuscript?  Have  you 
discussed  the  infinite  divisibility  of  matter  ? 

Digit.  No,  sir  ;  I  can  not  reckon  infinity ;  and  I  have  nothing 
to  do  with  subjects  that  can  not  be  reckoned. 

Sesq.  Why,  I  can  not  reckon  about  it.  I  reckon  it  is  divisi- 
ble ad  infinitum.  But  perhaps  your  work  is  upon  the  materi- 
ality of  light;  and  if  so,  which  side  of  the  question  do  you 
espouse  ? 

Digit.     0,  sir,  I  think  it  quite  immaterial. 

Sesq.  What !  light  immaterial !  Do  you  say  light  is  imma- 
terial ? 

Digit.  No  ;  I  say  it  is  quite  immaterial  which  side  of  the 
question  I  espouse.  I  have  nothing  to  do  with  it.  And  besides, 
I  am  a  bachelor,  and  do  not  mean  to  espouse  any  thing  at  present. 

Sesq.  Do  you  write  upon  the  attraction  of  cohesion  ?  You 
know  matter  has  the  properties  of  attraction  and  repulsion. 

Digit.  I  care  nothing  about  matter,  so  I  can  find  enough  for 
mathematical  demonstration. 

Sesq.  I  can  not  conceive  what  you  have  written  upon,  then. 
O,  it  must  be  the  centripetal  and  centrifugal  motions. 

Digit.  (Peevishly.)  No,  no  !  I  wish  Mr.  Morrell  would  come. 
Sir,  I  have  no  motions  but  such  as  I  can  make  with  my  pencil 
upon  my  slate,  thus.  (Figuring  upon  his  hand.)  Six,  minus 
tour,  plus  two,  equa  eight,  minus  six,  plus  two.  There,  those 
are  my  motions. 

Sesq.  0,  I  percei  /e  you  grovel  in  the  depths  of  arithmetic. 
'  suppose  you  nevei    oared  into  the  regions  of  philosophy.     You 


tMSDANTKY.  271 

never  thought  of  the  vacuum  wnich  has  so  long  filled  the  heads 
of  philosophers. 

Digit.  Vacuum!  {Putting  his  hand  to  his  forehead.)  Let 
me  think. 

Sesq.  Ha !  what !  have  you  got  it  sub  manu  —  that  is,  under 
your  hand  ?     Ha,  ha,  ha  ! 

Digit.  Eh !  under  my  hand  ?  What  do  you  mean,  sir  ?  — 
that  my  head  is  a  vacuum  ?  Would  you  insult  me,  sir  ?  insult 
Archimedes  Digit  ?  Why,  sir,  I'll  cipher  you  into  infinite  divisi- 
bility. I'll  set  you  on  an  inverted  cone,  and  give  you  a  centrip- 
etal and  centrifugal  motion  out  of  the  window,  sir  !  I'll  scatter 
your  solid  contents ! 

Sesq.  Da  veniam, —  that  is,  pardon  me,  —  it  was  merely  a 
lapsus  lingua,  —  that  is 

Digit.  Well,  sir,  I  am  not  fond  of  lapsus  Unguals,  at  all,  sir. 
However,  if  you  did  not  mean  to  offend,  I  accept  your  apology. 
I  wish  Mr.  Morrell  would  come. 

Sesq.     But,  sir,  is  your  work  upon  mathematics  ? 

Digit.  Yes,  sir.  In  this  manuscript  I  have  endeavored  to 
elucidate  the  squaring  of  the  circle. 

Sesq.  But,  sir,  a  square  circle  is  a  contradiction  in  terms 
You  can  not  make  one. 

Digit.  I  perceive  you  are  a  novice  in  this  sublime  science 
The  object  is  to  find  a  square  which  shall  be  equal  to  a  given 
circle ;  which  I  have  done  by  a  rule  drawn  from  the  radii  of  the 
circle  and  the  diagonal  of  the  square.  And  by  my  rule  the  area 
of  the  square  will  equal  the  area  of  the  circle. 

Sesq.  Your  terms  are  to  me  incomprehensible.  Diagonal  is 
derived  from  the  Greek  dia  and  goneo,  —  that  is,  "  through  the 
corner."  But  I  don't  see  what  it  has  to  do  with  a  circle  ;  for  if 
I  understand  aright,  a  circle,  like  a  sphere,  has  no  corners. 

Digit.  You  appear  to  be  very  ignorant  of  the  science  of 
numbers.  Your  life  must  be  very  insipidly  spent  in  poring  over 
philosophy  and  the  dead  languages.  You  never  tasted,  as  I  have, 
the  pleasure  arising  from  the  investigation  of  a  difficult  problem, 
or  the  discovery  of  a  new  rule  in  quadratic  equations. 

Sesq.  Poh  !  poh  !  (Turns  round  in  disgust,  and  hits  Digit 
with  his  cane.) 

]  '.git.     O,  you  villain  ! 

■S'es^.     1  wish,  sir 

Digit.  And  so  do  I  wish,  sir,  that  that  cane  was  raised  to  the 
fourth  power,  and  laid  over  your  head  as  many  times  as  there 
are  units  in  a  thousand.     O  !  O  ! 

Sesq.  Did  my  cane  come  in  contact  with  the  sphere  of  attrac- 
tion around  your  sliin  r      1  must  confess,  sir 


272  ROSS'S   SPEAKER. 

(Enter  Trill) 
But  here  is  Mr.  Morrell.     Salve,  domine  !     Sir,  your  servant. 

Trill.     Which  of  you,  gentlemen,  is  Mr.  Morrell  ? 

Sesq.     O,  neither,  sir.     I  took  you  for  that  gentleman. 

Trill.     No,  sir  ;  I  am  a  teacher  of  music.     Flute,  harp,  vio) 
violin,  violoncello,  organ,  or  any  thing  of  the  kind ;  any  instru- 
ment you  can  mention.     I  have  just  been  displaying  my  powers 
at  a  concert,  and  come  recommended  to  the  patronage  of  Mr. 
Morrell. 

Sesq.  For  the  same  purpose  are  that  gentleman  and  myself 
here. 

Digit.  (Still  rubbing  his  shin.)     O!  O! 

Trill.  Has  the  gentleman  the  gout  ?  I  have  heard  of  ita 
being  cured  by  music.  Shall  I  sing  you  a  tune  ?  Hem !  hem  ! 
Faw 

Digit.  No,  no  ;  I  want  none  of  your  tunes.  I'd  make  that 
philosopher  sing,  though,  and  dance,  too,  if  he  hadn't  made  a 
vulgar  fraction  of  my  leg. 

Sesq.  In  veritate, —  that  is,  in  truth, — it  happened  forte, — 
that  is,  by  chance. 

Trill.  (Talking  to  himself.)     If  B  be  flat,  me  is  in  E. 

Digit.  Ay,  sir  ;  this  is  only  an  integral  part  of  your  conduct 
ever  since  you  came  into  this  house.  You  have  continued  to 
multiply  your  insults  in  the  abstract  ratio  of  a  geometrical  pro- 
gression, and  at  last  have  proceeded  to  violence.  The  dignity 
of  Archimedes  Digit  never  experienced  such  a  reduction  descend- 
ing before. 

Trill.  (To  himself.)  Twice  fa,  sol,  lat  and  then  comes  me 
again. 

Digit.  If  Mr.  Morrell  does  not  admit  me  soon,  I'll  leave  the 
house,  while  my  head  is  on  my  shoulders. 

Trill.  Gentlemen,  you  neither  keep  time  nor  chord.  But  if 
you  can  sing,  we  will  carry  a  trio  before  we  go. 

Sesq.  Can  you  sing  an  ode  of  Horace  or  Anacreon  ?  I  should 
like  to  hear  one  of  them. 

Digit.  I  had  rather  hear  you  sing  a  demonstration  of  the 
forty-seventh  proposition,  first  book. 

Trill.  I  never  heard  of  those  performers,  sir  ;  where  did 
they  belong  ? 

Sesq.     They  did  belong  to  Italy  and  Greece. 

Trill.  Ah,  Italy  !  There  are  our  best  masters,  such  as  Mo- 
relli  and  Fuselli.  Can  you  favor  me  with  some  of  their  comoo. 
sit  ions  ? 

Sesq.     O,  yes ;  if  you  have  a  taste  that  way,  1  can  furtiwh 


ON    PRECEDENTS   IN    GOVERNMENT.  273 

you  with  them,  and  with  Virgil,  Sallust,  Cicero,  Caesar,  and 
Quintilian ;  and  I  have  an  old  Greek  Lexicon  which  I  cue 
spare. 

Trill.  Ad  libitum,  my  dear  sir ;  they  will  make  a  handsome 
addition  to  my  musical  library. 

Digit.  But,  sir,  what  pretensions  have  you  to  the  patronage 
of  Mr.  Morrell  ?     I  don't  believe  you  can  square  the  circle. 

Trill.  Pretensions,  sir  !  I  have  gained  a  victory  over  the  great 
Tantamarrarra,  the  new  opera  singer,  who  pretended  to  vie  with 
me.  'Twas  in  the  symphony  of  Handel's  Oratorio  of  Saul,  where 
you  know  every  tiling  depends  upon  the  tempo  giusto,  and  where 
the  primo  should  proceed  in  smorgando,  and  the  secondo,  agitati. 
But  lie  was  on  the  third  ledger  line,  I  was  an  octavo  below,  when, 
w  ith  a  sudden  appoggiatura,  I  rose  to  D  in  alt,  and  conquered 
him. 

(Enter  Drone.) 

Drone.    My  master  says  how  he  will  wait  on  you,  gentlemen. 

Digit.     What  is  your  name,  sir  ? 

Drone.     Drone,  at  your  service. 

Digit.  No,  no ;  you  need  not  drone  at  my  service.  A  very 
applicable  name,  however. 

Sesq.  Drone  ?  That  is  derived  from  the  Greek  draon,  that  is, 
(lying  or  moving  swiftly. 

Trill.  He  seems  to  move  in  andante  measure,  —  that  is,  to 
•he  tune  of  Old  Hundred. 

Drone.     Very  likely,  gentlemen. 

Digit.     Well,  as  1  came  first,  1  will  enter  first. 

Sesq.  Right.  You  shall  be  the  antecedent,  1  the  subsequent, 
and  Mr.  Trill  the  consequent. 

Trill.  Right.  I  was  always  a  man  of  consequence.  Fa, 
sol,  la,  Fa,  sol,  &c.     (Exeunt.) 


On  Precedents   in  Government.  —  Lewis  Cabb, 

Mr.  President,  eloquent  allusions  have  been  made  here  to 
'.he  ominous  condition  of  Europe.  And,  truly,  it  is  sufficiently 
threatening  to  fix  the  regard  of  the  rest  of  the  civilized  world. 
Elements  are  al  work  there  whose  contact  and  contest  must,  ere 
long,  produce  explosions  whose  consequences  no  man  can  foresee. 
The  cloud  may  as  yet  be  no  bigger  than  a  man's  hand,  like  that 
seen  by  the  prophet  from  Mount  Carmel  ;  but  it  will  overspread 
the  whole  hemisphere,  and  burst,  oerhaps  in  ruins,  upon  the  social 

lb 


274  ROSS'S   SPEAKER. 

and  politioa.  systems  of  the  old  world.  Antagonistic  principles 
are  doing  their  work  there.  The  conflict  can  not  he  avoided. 
The  desi  re  of  man  to  govern  himself,  and  the  determination  of 
rulers  to  govern  him,  are  now  face  to  face,  and  must  meet  in 
the  strife  of  action,  as  they  have  met  in  the  strife  of  opinion.  It 
requires  a  wiser  or  a  rasher  man  than  I  am  to  undertake  to 
foretell  when  and  how  this  great  battle  will  be  fought ;  but  it  is 
as  sure  to  come  as  is  the  sun  to  rise  again,  which  is  now  descend- 
ing to  the  horizon.  What  the  free  governments  of  the  world 
may  find  it  proper  to  do,  when  this  great  struggle  truly  begins,  I 
leave  to  those  upon  whom  will  devolve  the  duty  and  the  respon- 
sibility of  decision. 

It  has  been  well  said  that  the  existing  generation  stands  upon 
the  shoulders  of  its  predecessors.  Its  visual  horizon  is  enlarged 
from  this  elevation.  We  have  the  experience  of  those  who  have 
gone  before  us,  and  our  own,  too.  We  are  able  to  judge  for 
ourselves,  without  blindly  following  in  their  footsteps.  There  is 
nothing  stationary  in  the  world.  Moral  and  intellectual  as  well 
as  physical  sciences  are  in  a  state  of  progress ;  or,  rather,  we 
are  marching  onwards  in  the  investigation  of  their  true  principles. 
It  is  presumptuous,  at  any  time,  to  say  that  "  Now  is  the  best 
possible  condition  of  human  nature ;  let  us  sit  still  and  be  satis- 
fied ;  there  is  nothing  more  to  learn."  I  believe  in  no  such 
doctrine.  I  believe  we  are  always  learning.  We  have  a  right 
to  examine  for  ourselves.  In  fact,  it  is  our  duty  to  do  so.  Still, 
sir,  I  would  not  rashly  reject  the  experience  of  the  world,  any 
more  than  I  would  blindly  follow  it.  I  have  no  such  idea.  1 
have  no  wish  to  prostrate  all  the  barriers  raised  by  wisdom,  and 
to  let  in  upon  us  an  inundation  of  many  such  opinions  as  have 
been  promulgated  in  the  present  age.  But  far  be  it  from  me  tc 
adopt,  as  a  principle  of  conduct,  that  nothing  is  to  be  done  except 
what  has  been  done  before,  and  precisely  as  it  was  then  done 
So  much  for  precedents ! 


Tight    Times.  —  Albany  Register. 

A  great  exploder  of  bubbles  is  Tight  Times.  He  looks  into 
the  affairs  of  gold  companies,  and  they  fly  to  pieces ;  into  kiting 
banks,  and  they  stop  payment ;  into  rickety  insurance  companies, 
and  they  vanish  away.  He  walks  around  corner  lots,  draws  a 
line  across  lithographic  cities,  and  thev  disappear.  He  leaves 
his  footprint  among  mines,  and  the   rich  metal  becomes  dross 


INTERVENTION   IN    THE  WARS   OF  EUROPE.       275 

lie  breathes  upon  the  cunningest  schemes  of  speculation,  and 
they  burst  like  a  torpedo. 

A  curious  fellow  is  Tight  Times,  full  of  idiosyncrasies  and 
crotchets.  A  cosmopolite,  a  wanderer,  too.  Where  he  con.es 
from  nobody  knows,  and  where  he  goes  nobody  knows.  He 
flashes  along  the  telegraph  wires,  he  takes  a  free  passage  in 
the  cars,  he  seats  himself  in  the  stages,  or  goes  along  the  turn- 
pikes on  foot.  He  is  a  gentleman  on  Wall  Street  to-day,  and 
a  back  settler  on  the  borders  of  civilization  to-morrow.  We 
hear  of  him  in  London,  in  Paris,  in  St.  Petersburg,  at  Vienna, 
Berlin,  at  Constantinople,  at  Calcutta,  in  China,  all  over  the 
commercial  world,  in  every  great  city,  in  every  rural  district, 
every  where. 

There  is  one  way  to  avoid  being  bored  by  this  troublesome 
fellow,  Tight  Times.  It  is  the  only  way  for  a  country,  a  city,  a 
town,  as  well  as  individual  men,  to  keep  shut  of  his  presence 
always.  Let  the  country  that  would  banish  him  beware  of 
extravagance,  of  speculation,  of  overtrading,  of  embarking  in 
visionary  schemes  of  aggrandizement.  Let  it  keep  out  of  wars, 
avoid  internal  commotions,  and  go  right  along,  taking  care  of  its 
own  interests  and  husbanding  its  resources.  Let  the  city  that 
would  exclude  him  be  economical  in  its  expenditures,  indulging 
in  no  schemes  of  speculation,  making  no  useless  improvements, 
building  no  railroads  that  it  can  not  pay  for,  withholding  its  credit 
from  mushroom  corporations,  keeping  down  its  taxes,  and  going 
right  along,  taking  care  of  its  own  interests  and  husbanding  its 
own  resources.  Let  the  individual  man  who  would  exclude  him 
from  his  domestic  circle  be  industrious,  frugal,  keeping  out  of 
the  whirlpool  of  politics,  indulging  no  taste  for  office,  holding  up 
his  dish  when  pudding  falls  from  the  clouds,  laying  by  something 
when  the  sun  shines  to  make  up  for  the  dark  days,  —  for 

"  Some  days  must  be  dark  and  dreary,"  — 

working  on  always  with  a  heart  full  of  confidence  in  the  good 
providence  of  God,  and  cheerful  in  the  hope  of  "  the  good  time 
coming." 


Intervention  in  the   Wars  of  Europe. 

Jbeemiah  Clemens, 

Washington  has  said,  "  There  can  be  no  greater  error  than 
to  expect  or  calculate  upon  any  real  favors  from  nation  to  nation. 
It  is  an  illusion  which  experience   must  cure,  and  which  a   iust 


276  ROSS'S   SPEAKER, 

pride  ought  to  discard."     There  is  a  deep  wisdom  in  this  ;  ano 
he  who  disregards,  or  treats  it  lightly,  wants  the  highest  attribute 
of  a  statesman.     We  can  expect  nothing  as  a  favor  from  otheT 
nations,  and  none  have  a  right  to  expect  favors  from  us.     Our 
interference,  if  we  interfere  at  all,  must  be  dictated  by  interest ; 
and   therefore   I  ask,  in  what  possible  manner  can  we  be  bene- 
fited ?     Russia  has  done  us  no  injury  ;  we  have,  therefore,  no 
wrongs  to  avenge.     Russia  has  no  territory  of  which  we  wish  to 
deprive  her,  and  from  her  there  is  no  danger  against  which  it  is 
necessary  to  guard.     Enlightened  self-interest  does  not  ofTer  a 
single   argument  in   favor  of  embroiling  ourselves  in  a  quarrel 
with  her.      So  obvious,  so  indisputable,  is  this  truth,  that  the 
advocates  of  "  intervention "  have  based  their  speeches  almost 
solely  on  the  ground  that  we  have  a  divine   mission  to  perform, 
and  that  is,  to  strike  the  manacles  from  the  hands  of  all  mankind. 
It  may  be,  Mr.  President,  that  we  have  such  a  mission  ;  but,  if 
so,  "  the  time  of  its  fulfillment  is  not  yet."  And,  for  one,  I  prefer 
waiting  for  some  clearer  manifestation  of  the  divine  will.     By 
attempting  to  fulfill  it  now,  we  employ  the  surest  means  of  disap- 
pointing that  "  manifest  destiny  "  of  which  we   have   heard  so 
much.     We  have  before  us  the  certainty  of  inflicting  deep  injury 
upon  ourselves,  without  the  slightest  prospect  of  benefiting  others. 
Misfortunes  may  come  upon  us  all ;  dishonor  attaches  only  to 
the   unworthy.     A  nation  may  be  conquered,  trodden  down, — 
her  living  sons  in  chains,  her  dead   the  prey  of  vultures,  —  and 
still  leave   a  bright  example,  a  glorious  history,  to  after  times. 
But  when   folly  and  wickedness   have   ruled  the   hour,  —  when 
disaster  is  the  legitimate  child  of  error  and  weakness,  —  the  page 
that  records  it  is  but  a  record  of  infamy,  and  pity  for  misfortune 
becomes  a  crime  against  justice.     Sir,  I  do  not  love  that  word 
«  destiny,"  —  "  manifest "  or  not  "  manifest."     Men  and  nations 
make  their  own  destinies. 

"  Our  acts  our  angels  are,  or  good,  or  ill  — 
Our  fatal  shadows,  that  walk  by  us  still." 

The  future  of  this  republic  is  in  our  hands ;  and  it  is  for  us 
to  determine  whether  we  will  launch  the  ship  of  state  upon  a 
wild  and  stormy  sea,  above  whose  blackened  waters  no  sunshine 
beams,  no  star  shines  out,  and  where  not  a  ray  is  seen  but  what 
is  caught  from  the  lurid  lightning  in  its  fiery  path.  This,  sena- 
tors, is  the  mighty  question  we  have  to  solve  ;  and,  let  me  add, 
if  the  freedom  of  one  continent,  and  the  hopes  of  four,  shall  sink 
beneath  that  inky  flood,  ours  will  be  the  guilt  —  ours  the  deep 
damnation. 


THE  CONTEST   UNEQUAL.  27T 

Shall  1  be  told  these  -are  idle  fears  ?  That,  in  a  war  with 
Russia,  no  matter  for  what  cause  waged,  we  must  be  the  victor?  ? 
That,  in  short,  all  Europe  combined  could  not  blot  this  Union 
from  the  map  of  nations  ?  Ah,  sir,  that  is  not  all  I  fear.  1 
fear  success  even  more  than  defeat.  The  senator  from  Michigan 
was  right  when  he  said  that  our  fears  were  to  be  found  at  home. 
I  do  fear  ourselves.  Commit  our  people  once  to  unnecessary 
foreign  wars,  —  let  victory  encourage  the  military  spirit,  already 
too  prevalent  among  them,  —  and  Roman  history  will  have  no 
chapter  bloody  enough  to  be  transmitted  to  posterity  side  by  side 
with  ours.  In  a  brief  period  we  shall  have  reenacted,  on  a 
grander  scale,  the  same  scenes  v/hich  marked  her  decline.  The 
veteran  soldier,  who  has  followed  a  victorious  leader  from  clime 
to  clime,  will  forget  his  love  of  country  in  his  love  for  his  com- 
mander ;  and  the  bayonets  you  send  abroad  to  conquer  a  king- 
dom will  be  brought  back  to  destroy  the  rights  of  the  citizen, 
and  prop  the  throne  of  an  emperor. 


The   Contest  unequal.  —  Stdnbt  Smith. 

Mb.  Bailiff,  I  have  spoken  so  often  on  this  subject,  that 
I  am  sure  both  you  and  the  gentlemen  here  present  will  be 
obliged  to  me  for  saying  but  little,  and  that  favor  I  am  as  willing 
to  confer  as  you  can  be  to  receive  it.  I  feel  most  deeply  the 
event  which  has  taken  place,  because,  by  putting  the  two  houses 
of  Parliament  in  collision  with  each  other,  it  will  impede  the 
public  business,  and  diminish  the  public  prosperity.  I  feel  it  as 
a  churchman,  because  I  cannot  but  blush  to  see  so  many  digni- 
taries of  the  church  arrayed  against  the  wishes  and  happiness  of 
the  people.  I  feel  it,  mori  than  all,  because  I  believe  it  will  sow 
the  seeds  of  deadly  hatred  between  the  aristocracy  and  the  great 
mass  of  the  people.  The  loss  of  the  bill  I  do  not  feel,  and  for 
the  best  of  all  possible  reasons  —  because  I  have  not  the  slightest 
idea  that  it  is  lost.  I  have  no  more  doubt,  before  the  expiration 
of  the  winter,  that  this  bill  will  pass,  than  I  have  that  the  annual 
lax  bills  will  pass ;  and  greater  certainty  than  this  no  man  can 
have,  for  Franklin  tells  us,  there  are  but  two  things  certain  in 
this  world  —  death  and  taxes. 

Ab  for  the  possibility  of  the  House  of  Lords  preventing  ere 
long  a  reform  of  Parliament,  I  hold  it  to  be  the  most  absurd 
notion  that  ever  entered  into  human  imagination.  I  do  not  mean 
to  be  disrespectful,  but  the  attempt  of  the  lords  to  stop  the  prog 


nS  ROSS'S   SPEAKER. 

ress  of  reform  reminds  me  very  forcibly  of  the  great  storm  of 
Sidmouth,  and  of  the  conduct  of  the  excellent  Mrs.  Partington 
on  that  occasion.  In  the  winter  of  1824,  there  set  in  a  great 
flood  upon  that  town  ;  the  tide  rose  to  an  incredible  height ; 
the  waves  rushed  in  upon  the  houses,  and  every  thing  was  threat- 
ened with  destruction.  In  the  midst  of  this  sublime  and  terrible 
storm,  Dame  Partington,  who  lived  upon  the  beach,  was  seen  at 
the  door  of  her  house  with  mop  and  pattens,  trundling  the  mop, 
squeezing  out  the  sea  water,  and  vigorously  pushing  away  the 
Atlantic  Ocean.  The  Atlantic  was  roused.  Mrs.  Partington's 
spirit  was  up  ;  but  I  need  not  tell  you  that  the  contest  was  une- 
qual. The  Atlantic  Ocean  beat  Mrs.  Partington.  She  wa3 
excellent  at  a  slop  or  a  puddle,  but  she  should  not  have  meddled 
with  a  tempest.  Gentlemen,  be  at  your  ease  —  be  quiet  and 
steady.     You  will  beat  Mrs.  Partington. 


Hazards  of  our  National  Prosperity. 

W.  R.  Smith,  of  Alabama, 

Every  body  knows,  Mr.  Speaker,  what  has  been  the  policy 
of  this  government,  with  respect  to  the  concerns  of  Europe,  up 
to  the  present  time.  And  what,  I  ask,  has  been  the  result  of  that 
policy?  Why,  from  the  small  beginning  of  three  millions  of 
inhabitants,  we  have  grown  to  twenty-three  millions  ;  from  a 
*mall  number  of  states,  we  are  now  over  thirty.  But  Kossuth 
says  that  we  may  depart  from  that  policy  now ;  that  it  was  wise 
when  we  were  young,  but  that  now  we  have  grown  up  to  be  a 
giant,  and  may  abandon  it.  Ah,  sir,  we  can  all  resist  adversity. 
VVe  know  the  uses  —  and  sweet  are  they  —  of  adversity.  It  is 
the  crucible  of  fortune.  It  is  the  iron  key  that  unlocks  the  gol- 
den gates  of  prosperity.  I  say,  God  bless  adversity,  when  it  is 
properly  understood  !  But  the  rock  upon  which  men  and  upon 
which  nations  split  is  prosperity.  This  man  says  that  we 
have  grown  to  be  a  giant,  and  that  we  may  depart  from  the 
wisdom  of  our  youth.  But  I  say  that  now  is  the  time  to  take 
care ;  we  are  great  enough ;  let  us  be  satisfied ;  prevent  the 
growth  of  our  ambition,  to  prevent  our  pride  from  swelling,  and 
hold  on  to  what  we  have  got. 

Do  you  remember  the  story  of  the  old  governor  who  had 
been  raised  from  rags  ?  His  king  discovered  in  him  merit  and 
integrity,  and  appointed  him  a  satrap,  a  ruler  over  many  prov- 
inces. He  came  to  be  great,  and  it  was  his  custom  10  be 
escorted  throughout  the  country  several  times  during  the  year 


IMPROVEMENT.  279 

m  order  to  see  and  be  seen.  He  was  received  and  acknowl- 
edged every  where  as  a  great  man  and  a  great  governor.  Bu> 
he  carried  about  with  him  a  mysterious  chest,  and  every  now 
and  then  he  would  look  into  it,  and  let  nobody  else  see  what  it 
contained.  There  was  a  great  deal  of  curiosity  excited  by  this 
chest  ;  and  finally  he  was  prevailed  upon,  by  some  of  his  friends, 
to  let  them  look  into  it.  Well,  he  permitted  it,  and  what  did  they 
see  ?  They  saw  an  old,  ragged,  and  torn  suit  of  clothes  —  the 
ciothes  tnat  ne  used  to  wear  in  his  humility  and  in  his  poverty  ; 
and  he  said  that  he  carried  them  about  with  him  in  order  that, 
when  his  heart  began  to  swell,  and  his  ambition  to  rise,  and  his 
pride  to  dilate,  he  could  look  on  the  rags  that  reminded  him  ■{ 
what  he  had  been,  and  thereby  be  enabled  to  resist  the  tempra- 
tions  of  prosperity.  Let  us  see  whether  this  can  illustrate  any 
thing  in  our  history.  Raise  the  veil,  if  there  is  one,  which 
conceals  the  poverty  of  this  Union,  when  there  were  but  thirteen 
states.  Raise  the  veil  that  conceals  the  rags  of  our  soldiers  of 
the  revolution.  Lift  the  lid  of  the  chest  which  contains  the 
poverty  of  our  beginning,  in  order  that  you  may  be  reminded, 
like  this  old  satrap,  of  the  days  of  your  poverty,  and  be  enabled 
to  resist  the  advice  of  this  man,  who  tells  you  that  you  were 
wise  in  your  youth,  but  that  now  you  are  a  giant,  and  may 
depart  from  that  wisdom.  Remember  the  use  of  adversity,  and 
let  us  take  advantage  of  it,  and  be  benefited  by  it ;  for  great  is 
the  man,  and  greater  is  the  nation,  that  can  resist  the  enchant- 
ing smiles  of  prosperity. 


Improvement.  —  Dow,  Jr. 

My  dear  friends,  1  mean  to  speak  of  the  spirit  of  improve- 
ment in  general  terms,  as  relating  to  enlightenment,  the  advance- 
ment of  knowledge  and  progress  in  the  arts  and  sciences.  In 
this  respect  it  is  like  the  rolling  avalanche,  that  leaves  detached 
portions  of  its  bulk  by  the  way,  and  yet  keeps  augmenting  in  its 
circumvolutionary  course.  Hardy  Enterprise  first  goes  forward 
as  a  pioneer  in  the  untracked  wilderness,  and  commences  fight 
with  the  mighty  trees  of  the  forest,  cutting  them  off,  some  in  the 
nrlmc  of  life,  and  others  in  a  green  old  age,  and  compelling 
Uiem  to  spill  their  sap  upon  their  country's  soil.  Then  walks 
Agriculture  into  them  'ere  diggins,  with  spade,  harrow,  and  toe, 
and  scatters  the  seed  of  promise  hither  and  thither,  assuring  the 
hopeful  settler  that  his  children's  children  shall  sop  their  hard- 


280  ROSS'S   SPEAKER. 

earn*  id  crumbs  in  the  real  gravy  of  the  land.  The  handmaid 
Art  then  comes  forward,  erects  edifices  of  splendor,  and  leaves 
her  ornaments  of  skill  on  every  side  —  builds  studios  for  the 
scholars  of  science,  and  throws  facilities  in  their  way  for  increas- 
ing their  wisdom,  or  for  making  egregious  fools  of  themselves. 

Such,  my  hearers,  is  the  spirit  of  improvement.  Like  the 
overflowing  of  a  stream  that  covers  and  enriches  the  valley,  it 
betters  the  natural  and  social  condition  of  man,  opens  wide  the 
avenues  to  the  temple  of  reason,  and  expands  the  young  buds  of 
prosperity.  Brush  away  the  fog  of  a  couple  of  centuries,  and 
take  a  look  at  this,  our  native  land,  as  it  then  appeared.  Here, 
upon  the  Atlantic  shore,  the  scream  of  the  panther  arose  on  the 
midnight  air  with  the  savage  war  whoop,  and  the  pale-faced 
pilgrim  trembled  for  the  safety  of  his  defenceless  home.  He 
planted  his  beans  in  fear  and  gathered  them  in  trouble  ;  his 
chickens  and  his  children  were  plundered  by  the  foe,  and  life 
itself  was  in  danger  of  leaking  out  from  between  the  logs  of  his 
hut,  even  if  it  were  fortified  with  three  muskets,  a  spunky  wife, 
and  a  jug  of  whiskey.  Yes,  my  friends,  this  was  then  a  wild, 
gloomy,  and  desolate  place.  Where  the  Indian  squaw  hung  her 
young  pappoose  upon  the  bough,  and  left  it  to  squall  at  the  hush- 
a-by  of  the  blast,  the  Anglo-Saxon  mother  now  rocks  the  cradle 
of  her  delicate  babe  on  the  carpet  of  peace,  and  in  the  gay  par- 
lor of  fashion.  The  wild  has  been  changed  to  a  blooming  gar- 
den, and  its  limits  are  expanding  with  the  mighty  genius  of 
Liberty.  On  Erie's  banks  the  flocks  are  now  straying  o'er  thy- 
my  pastures,  and  a  few  Dutchmen  (but  no  shepherds)  are  already 
piping  thcie.  The  yells  of  fierce  savages  now  faintly  echo  from 
beyond  tne  waters  of  the  Mississippi,  and  the  time  is  not  far  off 
when  the  last  Indian  will  leave  his  bones  to  bleach  on  the  rock- 
bound  coast  of  the  Pacific. 


Despair.  —  Dow,  Jr. 

The  whitest  foam  dances  upon  the  darkest  billow,  and  the 
stars  shine  the  brightest  when  surrounded  by  the  blackest  of 
thunder  clouds ;  even  as  a  diamond  pin  glistens  with  the  greatest 
effulgence  when  fastened  upon  the  ebony  bosom  of  an  Ethiopian 
wench.  So  hope  mirrors  its  most  brilliant  rays  in  the  dark 
wave  of  despair,  and  happiness  is  never  so  complete  as  when 
visited  occasionally  by  the  ministers  of  misery.  These  ups  and 
downs  in  the  pathway  of  man's  existence  are  all  for  the  best 


DESPAIR.  281 

and  yet  he  allows  them  to  vex  and  torment  his  peace  till  he 
bursts  the  boiler  of  his  rage,  and  scalds  his  own  toes.  I  have 
no  doubt  but  the  common  run  of  people  would  like  to  have  a 
lailroad  built  from  here  to  the  grave,  and  go  through  by  steam 
but  if  they  all  worked  as  easy  in  life's  galling  collar  as  I  do, 
they  would  have  things  just  as  they  are,  —  some  ups  and  some 
downs,  some  sweet  and  some  bitter,  some  sunshine  and  some 
storm,  —  because  they  constitute  a  variety.  I  wouldn't  give  a  shin- 
plaster  penny  to  have  the  road  of  existence  perfectly  level ;  for  I 
should  soon  become  tired  of  a  dull  sameness  of  prospect,  and  make 
myself  miserable  in  the  idea  that  I  must  experience  no  material 
change,  either  for  better  or  for  worse.  Plum  pudding  is  most 
excellent  stuff  to  wind  off  a  dinner  with ;  but  all  plum  pudding 
would  be  worse  than  none  at  all.  So  you  see,  my  friends,  the 
troubles  and  trials  of  life  are  absolutely  necessary  to  enable  us  to 
judge  rightly  of  genuine  happiness,  whenever  it  happens  to  enli- 
ven the  saturnine  region  of  the  heart  with  its  presence. 

If  we  never  were  to  have  our  jackets  and  shirts  wet  with  the 
cold  rain  of  misfortune,  we  should  never  know  how  good  it  feels 
to  stand  out  and  dry  in  the  warm  rays  of  comfcrt.  You  needn't 
hesitate  ever  to  travel  through  swamps  cf  trouble  for  fear  of 
sinking  over  head  in  the  mud  of  despondency  ;  for  despair  is 
never  quite  despair.  No,  my  friends,  it  never  comes  quite  up 
to  the  mark  in  the  most  desperate  cases.  I  know  the  prospects 
of  man  are  sometimes  most  tormentingly  conglomerous  ;  but  the 
clouds  eventually  clear  away,  and  his  sky  again  becomes  clear 
and  quiescent  as  a  basin  of  potato  starch.  His  sun  of  ambition 
may  be  darkened,  his  moon  of  memory  turned  to  blood,  and  the 
star  of  his  peace  blotted  from  the  firmament  of  his  —  I  don't  know 
what ;  but  he  is  not  entirely  a  gone  goose  even  in  this  situation. 
Those  semi-celestial  angels  of  light  and  loveliness,  Hope  and 
Fancy,  will  twine  the  sweetest  of  roses  round  his  care-wrinkled 
brow  ;  and  while  one  whispers  in  his  ear,  "  Don't  give  up  the 
ship,"  the  other  dresses  up  for  him  a  bower  of  future  happiness, 
and  festoons  it  with  the  choicest  of  Elysian  flowers.  The  very 
darkest  cell  of  despair  always  has  a  gimlet  hole  to  let  the  glory 
of  hope  shine  in,  and  dry  up  the  tears  of  the  poor  prison  3r  of 
woe. 


282  KOSS'8  SPEAKER. 


Nature.— Dow,  Jb. 


Mr  dear  friends,  it  matters  not  upon  whichsoever  side  we 
tarn  our  eyes ;  we  behold  such  beauty  in  its  primitive  nakedi  ess 
as  can  not  fail  to  captivate  the  heart  of  every  true  worshiper  of 
the  God  of  nature,  and  make  him  feel  as  though  ten  thousand 
caterpillars  were  crawling  up  and  down  the  ossified  railway  of 
his  back.  Look  at  yonder  myriads  of  stars  that  glitter  and 
sparkle  from  the  dome  of  heaven's  high  concave.  Say,  is  there 
not  beauty  in  these  ?  Ay,  there  is  beauty  magnificent  in  these 
little  celestial  trinkets  that  stud  the  ebon  brow  of  night — shin- 
ing, as  they  do,  like  a  multitude  of  beacon  lights  of  glory  in  the 
blue-black  of  eternity,  or  like  so  many  cats'  eyes  in  a  window 
less  garret.  Observe  the  silvery  moon,  pale-faced  Cynthia, 
wandering  Luna,  or  whatever  you  choose  to  call  her  :  see  how 
gracefully  she  promenades  the  selfsame  path  which  was  laid 
out  for  her  at  the  beginning  of  the  world.  Look  at  the  resplen- 
dent sun  :  see  how  it  has  maintained  its  unsullied  brightness 
through  the  rust-gathering  ages  of  time.  Not  a  single  thread 
has  been  lost  from  its  golden  fringe,  and  not  even  a  fly-speck 
has  marred  its  splendor;  but  it  is  to-day  the  same  beautiful, 
lovely  object  that  it  was  when  it  first  burst  upon  paradise,  anc 
rolled  back  the  darkness  of  chaos  into  the  unknown  regions  of 
nowhere. 

There  is  beauty  at  sunset.  Who  can  look  at  all  the  glories 
of  an  autumnal  twilight,  and  not  have  the  furze  upon  his  hands 
rise  up  in  rapture  ?  O,  it  is,  by  all  odds,  the  grandest  and  sub- 
limest  picture  in  the  great  academy  of  nature.  At  the  festooned 
gates  of  the  west,  angels  of  peace  and  loveliness  have  furled 
their  purple  wings,  and  are  sweetly  sleeping  with  their  heads 
upon  pillows  of  amber,  over-canopied  with  curtains  of  damask 
and  crimson,  tempting  poor  mortals  like  us  to  climb  up  the  lad 
der  of  imagination,  and  steal  kisses  by  the  bushel.  When  the 
morning,  too,  as  my  friend  Hudibras  observes,  like  a  boiled 
lobster,  begins  to  turn  from  brown  to  red,  there  is  beauty  of  the 
tallest  order.  Yes,  when  Aurora  hangs  out  her  red  under  gar- 
ment from  her  chamber  window,  prepares  her  perfumed  toile;, 
and  sweeps  out  the  last  speck  of  darkness  from  the  Oriental 
parlor,  there  is  such  blushing  beauty  resting  upon  the  eastern 
hilltops,  as  can  not  fail  to  be  appreciated  by  any  one  whose 
heartstrings  are  not  composed  of  catgut  and  horse  hair. 


ATTENTION   THE   SOUL   OF   CiENlUS.  «8S 


Gold.  —  Thoma*  Hood 

Gold  !  gold  !  gold  !  gold  ! 
Bright  and  yellow,  hard  and  cold  ; 
Molten,  graven,  hammered,  and  rolled  ; 
Heavy  to  get  and  light  to  hold  ; 
Hoarded,  bartered,  bought,  and  sold, 
Stolen,  borrowed,  squandered,  doled 
Spurned  by  the  young,  but  hugged  by  the  old, 
To  the  very  verge  of  the  churchyard  mold  ; 
Price  of  many  a  crime  untold. 
Gold  !  gold !  gold  !  gold  ! 
Good  or  bad  a  thousand  fold ! 

How  widely  its  agencies  vary, — 
To  save  —  to  ruin  —  to  curse  —  to  bless  — 
As  even  its  minted  coins  express  ; 
Now  stamped  with  the  imago  of  Good  Queen  Bcm, 

And  now  of  a  Bloody  Mary. 


Attention  the  Soul  of  Genius.  —  De.  Dbwbt. 

The  favorite  idea  of  a  genius  among  us  is  of  one  who  never 
studies,  or  who  studies  nobody  can  tell  when, —  at  midnight,  or 
at  odd  times  and  intervals,  —  and  now  and  then  strikes  out,  "  at 
a  heat,"  as  the  phrase  is,  some  wonderful  production.  "  The 
young  man,"  it  is  often  said,  "  has  genius  enough,  if  lie  would 
only  study."  Now,  the  truth  is,  that  the  genius  will  study  ;  it 
is  that  in  the  mind  which  does  study :  that  is  the  very  natnre  of 
it.  I  care  not  to  say  that  it  will  always  use  books.  All  study  is 
not  reading,  any  more  than  all  reading  is  study. 

Attention  is  the  very  soul  of  genius ;  not  the  fixed  eye  not 
the  poring  over  a  book,  but  the  fixed  thought.  It  is,  in  fact,  an 
action  of  the  mind  which  is  steadily  concentrated  upon  one  idea, 
or  one  series  of  ideas  ;  which  collects,  in  one  point,  the  rays  of 
the  soul,  till  they  search,  penetrate,  and  fire  the  whole  train  of 
its  thoughts.  And  while  the  hre  burns  within,  the  outside  may 
be  indeed  cold,  indifferent,  negligent,  absent  in  appearance  :  he 
mav  be  an  idler  or  a  wanderer,  apparently  without  aim  or 
intent  ,  but  still  the  fire  burns  within.  And  what,  though  "  it 
bursts  forth  "  at  length,  as  has  been  said,  "  like  volcanic  fires, 
with  sponUuieous,  original,  native   force  i  "      It  only  shows  die 


<Jg4  ROSS'S   SPEAKER. 

intense  action  of  the  elements  beneath.  What  though  it  breaks 
forth  like  lightning  from  the  cloud  ?  The  electric  fire  had  been 
collecting  in  the  firmament  through  many  a  silent,  clear,  and 
calm  day.  What  though  the  might  of  genius  appears  in  one 
decisive  blow,  struck  in  some  moment  of  high  debate,  or  at  the 
crisis  of  a  nation's  peril  ? 

That  mighty  energy,  though  it  may  have  heaved  in  the  breast 
of  Demosthenes,  was  once  a  feeble,  infant  thought.  A  mother's 
eye  watched  over  its  dawnings.  A  father's  care  guarded  it? 
early  youth.  It  soon  trod,  with  youthful  steps,  the  halls  of 
.earning,  and  found  other  fathers  to  wake  and  to  watch  for  it, 
even  as  it  finds  them  here.  It  went  on,  but  silence  was  upon  its 
path,  and  the  deep  strugglings  of  the  inward  soul  silently  minis- 
tered to  it.  The  elements  around  breathed  upon  it,  and  "  touched 
it  to  finer  issues."  The  golden  ray  of  heaven  fell  upon  it,  and 
ripened  its  expanding  faculties.  The  slow  revolutions  of  years 
slowly  added  to  its  collected  energies  and  treasures ;  till,  in  its 
hour  of  glory,  it  stood  forth  embodied  in  the  form  of  living, 
commanding,  irresistible  eloquence.  The  world  wonders  at  the 
manifestation,  and  says,  "  Strange,  strange  that  it  should  come 
thus  unsought,  unpremeditated,  unprepared  !  "  But  the  truth  is, 
there  is  no  more  a  miracle  in  it  than  there  is  in  the  towering  of 
the  preeminent  forest  tree,  or  in  the  flowing  of  the  mighty  and 
irresistible  river,  or  in  the  wealth  and  waving  of  the  boundless 
narvest. 


On  the  supposed  Dangers  to  the  Union.  —  Mapison. 

Hearken  not  to  the  unnatural  voice  which  tells  you  that  the 
people  of  America,  knit  together  as  they  are  by  so  many  cords 
of  affection,  can  no  longer  live  together  as  members  of  the  same 
family ;  can  no  longer  continue  the  mutual  guardians  of  their 
mutual  happiness ;  can  no  longer  be  fellow-citizens  of  one  great, 
respectable,  and  flourishing  empire.  Hearken  not  to  the  voice 
which  petulantly  tells  you  that  the  form  of  government  recom- 
mended for  your  adoption  is  a  novelty  in  the  political  world  ; 
that  it  never  yet  has  had  a  place  in  the  theories  of  the  wildest 
projectors :  that  it  rashly  attempts  what  it  is  impossible  to  accom- 
plish. No,  my  countrymen  ;  shut  your  ears  against  this  unhal- 
lowed language. 

Shut  youi  heart  against  the  poison  which  it  conveys  :  the 
kindred  blood  which  flows  in  the  veins  of  American  citizens,  the 


SUPPOSED   DANGERS   TO   THE   UNION.  285 


.» 


mingled  blood  which  they  have  shed  in  defense  of  their  sacred 
rights,  consecrate  their  union,  and  excite  horror  at  the  idea  of 
their  becoming  aliens,  rivals,  enemies.  And  if  novelties  are  to 
be  shunned,  belie\e  me,  the  most  alarming  of  all  novelties,  the 
most  wild  of  all  projects,  the  most  rash  of  all  attempts,  is  that  of 
rending  us  in  pieces  in  order  to  preserve  our  liberties  and  pro- 
mote our  happiness. 

But  why  is  the  experiment  of  an  extended  republic  to  be  re- 
jected merely  because  it  may  comprise  what  is  new  ?  Is  it  not 
the  glory  of  the  people  of  America,  that  while  they  have  paid  a 
decent  regard  to  the  opinions  of  former  times  and  other  nations, 
they  have  not  suffered  a  blind  veneration  for  antiquity,  for  cus- 
tom, or  for  names,  to  overrule  the  suggestions  of  their  own  good 
sense,  the  knowledge  of  their  own  situation,  and  the  lessons  of 
their  own  experience  ?  To  this  manly  spirit  posterity  will  be 
indebted  for  the  possession,  and  the  world  for  the  example,  of 
the  numerous  innovations  displayed  on  the  American  theater  in 
favor  of  private  rights  and  public  happiness. 

Had  no  important  step  been  taken  by  the  leaders  of  the  revo- 
lution for  which  a  precedent  could  not  be  discovered,  no  govern- 
ment established  of  which  an  exact  model  did  not  present  itself, 
the  people  of  the  United  States  might,  at  this  moment,  have  been 
numbered  among  the  melancholy  victims  of  misguided  councils  ; 
must,  at  best,  have  been  laboring  under  the  weight  of  some  of 
those  forms  which  have  crushed  the  liberties  of  the  rest  of 
mankind. 

Happily  for  America,  happily,  we  trust,  for  the  whole  human 
race,  they  pursued  a  new  and  more  noble  course.  They  accom- 
plished a  revolution  which  has  no  parallel  in  the  annals  of 
human  society.  They  reared  the  fabric  of  governments  which 
have  no  model  on  the  face  of  the  globe.  They  formed  the 
design  of  a  great  confederacy,  which  it  is  incumbent  on  their 
successors  to  improve  and  perpetuate.  If  their  works  betray 
imperfections,  we  wonder  at  the  fewness  of  them.  If  they 
erred  most  in  the  structure  of  the  Union,  this  was  the  most 
difficult  to  be  executed  ;  this  is  the  work  which  has  been  new- 
modelled  by  the  act  of  your  convention,  and  it  is  that  act  on 
which  you  are  now  to  deliberate  and  to  decide. 


286  ROSS'S   SPEAKER. 


The  Disinterestedness  of  Washington. 
Robeet  Teeat  Paine. 

To  the  pen  of  the  historian  must  be  resigned  the  more 
arduous  and  elaborate  tribute  of  justice  to  those  efforts  of  heroic 
and  political  virtue  which  conducted  the  American  people  to 
peace  and  liberty.  The  vanquished  foe  retired  from  our  shores, 
and  left  to  the  controlling  genius  who  repelled  them  tha  grati- 
tude of  his  own  country,  and  the  admiration  of  the  world.  The 
time  had  now  arrived  which  was  to  apply  the  touchstone  to  his 
integrity  —  which  was  to  assay  the  affinity  of  his  principles  to 
the  standard  of  immutable  right.  On  the  one  hand,  a  realm  to 
which  he  was  endeared  by  his  services  almost  invited  him  to 
empire  ;  on  the  other,  the  liberty  to  whose  protection  his  life 
had  been  devoted  was  the  ornament  and  boon  of  human  nature. 
Washington  could  not  depart  from  his  own  great  self.  His 
country  was  free  —  he  was  no  longer  a  general.  Sublime 
spectacle  !  more  elevating  to  the  pride  of  virtue  than  the  sover- 
eignty of  the  globe  united  to  the  scepter  of  ages  !  Enthroned 
in  the  hearts  of  his  countrymen,  the  gorgeous  pageantry  of 
prerogative  was  unworthy  the  majesty  of  his  dominion.  That 
effulgence  of  military  character,  which  in  ancient  states  has 
blasted  the  rights  of  the  people  whose  renown  it  had  brightened, 
was  not  here  permitted,  by  the  hero  from  whom  it  emanated,  to 
shine  with  so  destructive  a  luster.  Its  beams,  though  intensely 
resplendent,  did  not  wither  the  young  blossoms  of  our  inde- 
pendence ;  and  liberty,  like  the  burning  bush,  flourished  uncon 
sumed  by  the  glory  which  surrounded  it. 

To  the  illustrious  founder  of  our  republic  was  it  reserved  tc 
exhibit  the  example  of  a  magnanimity  that  commanded  victory, 
cf  a  moderation  that  retired  from  triumph.  Unlike  the  er- 
ratic meteors  of  ambition,  whose  flaming  path  sheds  a  disas- 
tious  light  on  the  pages  of  history,  his  bright  orb,  eclipsing  the 
luminaries  among  which  it  rolled,  never  portended  "  fearful 
change  "  to  religion,  nor  from  its  "  golden  tresses  "  shook  pesti- 
lence on  empire.  What  to  other  heroes  has  been  glory,  would 
to  him  have  been  disgrace.  To  his  intrepidity  it  would  have 
added  no  honorary  trophy  to  have  waded,  like  the  conqueror  of 
Peru,  through  the  blood  of  credulous  millions,  to  plant  the  stan- 
dard of  triumph  at  the  burning  mouth  of  a  volcano.  To  his 
fame  it  would  have  erected  no  auxiliary  monument  to  have 
invaded,  like  the  ravager  of  Egypt,  an  innocent  though  barba- 
rous nation,  to  inscribe  his  name  on  the  pillar  of  Pompey. 


VINDICATION   OF    SOUTH   CAROLINA.  28* 


Vindication  of  South   Carolina.  —  McDufith. 

Sir,  I  feel  that  I  am  called  upon  to  vindicate  the  motives  and 
the  character  of  the  people  of  South  Carolina  from  imputations 
which  have  been  unjustly  cast  upon  them.  There  is  no  state  in 
this  Union  distinguished  by  a  more  lofty  and  disinterested  patri- 
otism than  that  which  I  have  the  honor,  in  part,  to  represent.  I 
can  proudly  and  confidently  appeal  to  history  for  proof  of  this 
assertion.  No  state  has  made  greater  sacrifices  to  vindicate  the 
common  rights  of  the  Union,  and  preserve  its  integrity.  No 
sta'e  is  more  willing  to  make  those  sacrifices  now,  whether  of 
blood  or  treasure. 

But,  sir,  it  does  not  belong  to  this  lofty  spirit  of  patriotism  to 
submit  to  unjust  and  unconstitutional  oppression  ;  nor  is  South 
Carolina  to  be  taunted  with  the  charge  of  treason  and  rebellion, 
because  she  has  the  intelligence  to  understand  her  rights,  and 
the  spirit  to  maintain  them.  God  has  not  planted  in  the  breast 
of  man  a  higher  and  a  holier  principle  than  that  by  which  he  is 
prompted  to  resist  oppression.  Absolute  submission  and  passive 
obedience,  for  every  extreme  of  tyranny,  are  the  characteristics 
of  slaves  only. 

The  oppression  of  the  people  of  South  Carolina  has  been 
carried  to  an  extremity  which  the  most  slavish  population  on 
earth  would  not  endure  without  a  struggle.  Is  it  to  be  expected, 
then,  that  freemen  will  patiently  bow  down  and  kiss  the  rod  of 
the  oppressor?  Freemen,  did  I  say?  Why,  sir,  any  one  who 
has  the  form  and  bears  the  name  of  a  man  —  nay,  "  a  beast  that 
wants  discourse  of  reason,"  a  dog,  a  sheep,  a  reptile  —  the  vilest 
reptile  that  crawls  upon  the  earth  without  the  gift  of  reason  to 
comprehend  the  injustice  of  its  injuries  —  would  bite,  or  bruise, 
or  sting  the  hand  by  which  they  were  inflicted. 

Is  it,  then,  for  a  sovereign  state  to  fold  her  arms  and  stand 
still  in  submissive  apathy,  when  the  loud  clamors  of  the  people 
whom  Providence  has  committed  to  her  charge  are  ascending  to 
heaven  for  justice  ?  Hug  not  this  delusion  to  your  breast,  I 
pray  you. 

It  is  not  for  me  to  say,  in  this  place,  what  course  South  Caro- 
lina may  deem  it  her  duty  to  pursue  in  this  great  emergency. 
It  is  enough  to  say,  that  she  perfectly  understands  the  ground 
which  she  occupies ;  and  be  assured,  sir,  that  whatever  attitude 
she  may  assume,  in  her  highest  sovereign  capacity,  she  will 
firmly  and  fearlessly  maintain  it,  be  the  consequences  what  thej 
may  The  responsibility  will  not  rest  upon  her,  nut  upon  hei 
oppressors. 


283  ROSS'S   SPEAKER. 


Intemperance.  —  Pob. 

We  have  thus  far  considered  intemperance  with  reference  to 
its  effects  upcn  individuals  and  private  communities  ;  but  are  we 
not  authorized  to  extend  cur  view  ?  and  in  doing  30,  can  we  not 
discern  its  baneful  influence,  not  only  on  individuals  and  private 
communities,  but  upon  the  sacred  institutions  of  our  country  ? 

Does  not  the  history  of  that  great  and  glorious  nation  whoso 
poetry  and  eloquence  have  dazzled  whilst  they  instructed  us 
and  whose  prowess  in  arms  has  been  surpassed  by  no  nation  on 
earth,  teach  us  this  salutary  lesson  —  that  luxury  and  effeminacy 
will  paralyze  the  best  institutions,  and  open  a  door  to  the  entrance 
of  tyranny  so  wide  that  no  human  effort  can  prevent  its  encroach- 
ment ?  The  luxury  of  the  Roman  nation  consisted  not  in  the 
extravagancy  of  her  citizens,  the  costliness  of  her  shows,  and 
the  magnificence  of  her  palaces  alone,  but  in  the  excesses  of 
the  table  and  her  bacchanalian  indulgences,  producing  a  state  of 
morals  indicated  by  scenes  of  lewdness  and  debauchery,  the 
details  of  which  no  one  possessed  of  one  feeling  of  delicacy 
could  peruse  without  sensations  of  the  most  unqualified  disgust. 

That  proud  and  independent  nation,  who,  having  by  her  mili- 
tary discipline,  her  capacity  to  endure  fatigue  and  hardship,  and, 
above  all,  her  high  sense  of  the  value  of  freedom,  not  only 
drove  back  the  armies  of  the  foreign  invader,  but  extended  her 
conquests  so  far  as  to  be  denominated  the  mistress  of  the  world, 
—  after  accomplishing  all  this,  and,  in  effecting  it,  enduring 
without  a  murmur  the  scorching  heat  of  the  torrid  and  the 
chilling  cold  of  the  frigid  zones,  —  by  the  withering  influence  of 
luxury  and  excess  became  the  willing  dupe  of  the  designing  and 
ambitious,  and  tamely  submitted  to  the  yoke  of  tyranny. 

In  a  government  like  our  own,  in  which  all  power  resides  in 
the  people,  and  where  those  who  govern  and  legislate  do  so  by 
the  will  and  permission  of  their  constituents,  it  will  ever  be 
found  that  the  representatives  of  the  people  not  only  maintain 
the  political  principles,  but  likewise  personate  the  moral  charac- 
ter of  the  majority  they 'represent.  Show  me  a  profligate  and 
intemperate  representative,  and  I  will  guide  you  to  a  licentious 
and  drunken  community.  It  can  not  be  otherwise  ;  the  one  fol« 
ows  the  other  as  certainly  as  the  effect  follows  the  cause. 


NO   EXCELLENCE    WITHOUT   LABOR.  2SS 

No  Excellence  without  Labor.  —  Wihi. 

The  education,  gentlemen,  moral  and  intellectual,  of  every 
individual,  must  be,  chiefly,  his  own  work.  How  else  could  it 
happen,  that  young  men,  who  have  had  precisely  the  same  op- 
portunities, should  be  continually  presenting  us  with  such  differ- 
ent results,  and  rushing  to  such  opposite  destinies  ?  Difference 
of  talent  will  not  solve  it,  because  that  difference  is  very  often  in 
favor  of  the  disappointed  candidate. 

You  will  see  issuing  from  the  walls  of  the  same  college  —  nay, 
sometimes  from  the  bosom  of  the  same  family  'wo  young  men, 
of  whom  the  one  shall  be  admitted  to  be  a  genius  of  high  order, 
the  other  scarcely  above  the  point  of  mediocrity  ;  yet  you  shall 
see  the  genius  sinking  and  perishing  in  poverty,  obscurity,  and 
wretchedness  ;  while,  on  the  other  hand,  you  shall  observe  the 
mediocre  plodding  his  slow  but  sure  way  up  the  hill  of  life, 
gaining  stedfast  footing  at  every  step,  and  mounting,  at  length, 
to  eminence  and  distinction,  an  ornament  to  his  family,  a  blessing 
to  his  country. 

Now,  whose  work  is  this  ?  Manifestly  their  own.  Men  are 
the  architects  of  their  respective  fortunes.  It  is  the  fiat  of  fate 
from  which  no  power  of  genius  can  absolve  you.  Genius,  unex- 
erted,  is  like  the  poor  moth  that  flutters  around  a  candle  till  it 
scorches  itself  to  death.  If  genius  be  desirable  at  all,  it  is  only 
of  that  great  and  magnanimous  kind,  which,  like  the  condor  of 
South  America,  pitches  from  the  summit  of  Chimborazo,  above 
the  clouds,  and  sustains  itself,  at  pleasure,  in  that  empyreal 
region,  with  an  energy  rather  invigorated  than  weakened  by  the 
effort. 

It  is  this  capacity  for  high  and  long-continued  exertion,  this 
vigorous  power  of  profound  and  searching  investigation,  this 
careering  and  wide-spreading  comprehension  of  mind,  and  those 
long  reaches  of  thought,  that 

"  Pluck  bright  honor  from  the  pale-faced  moon. 
Or  dive  into  the  bottom  of  the  deep, 
Where  fathom  line  could  never  touch  the  ground, 
And  drag  up  drowned  honor  by  the  locks." 

This    is   the  prowess,  and  these  the  hardy  achievements,  which 
are  to  enroll  your  names  among  the  great  men  of  the  earth. 

19 


290  ROSS'S   SPEAKER. 


Belsh  azzar's  Vision.  —  Btbor 

The  king  was  on  his  throne, 

The  satraps  thronged  the  hall ; 
A  thousand  bright  lamps  shone 

O'er  that  high  festival. 
A  thousand  cups  of  gold, 

In  Judah  deemed  divine, 
Jehovah's  vessels,  hold 

The  godless  heathen's  wine. 

In  that  same  hour  and  hall, 

The  fingers  of  a  hand 
Came  forth  against  the  wall, 

And  wrote  as  if  on  sand  ; 
The  fingers  of  a  man ;  — 

A  solitary  hand 
Along  the  letters  ran, 

And  traced  them  like  a  wand. 

The  monarch  saw,  and  shook, 

And  bade  no  more  rejoice  ; 
All  bloodless  waxed  his  look, 

And  tremulous  his  voice. 
"  Let  the  men  of  lore  appear, 

The  wisest  of  the  earth, 
And  expound  the  words  of  fear 

Which  mar  our  royal  mirth." 

Chaldea's  seers  are  good, 

But  here  they  have  no  skill 
And  the  unknown  letters  stood 

Untold  and  awful  still. 
And  Babel's  men  of  age 

Are  wise  and  deep  in  lore , 
But  now  they  were  not  sage : 

They  saw,  but  knew  no  mora. 

A  captive  m  the  land, 

A  stranger  and  a  youth 
He  heard  the  king's  command, 

He  saw  that  writing's  truth 


ADDRESS   TO   THE   OCEAN.  2»y 

The  lamps  around  were  bright, 

The  prophecy  in  view  ; 
He  read  it  on  that  night : 

The  morrow  proved  it  true. 

11  Belshazzar's  grave  is  made, 

His  kingdom  passed  away ; 
He,  in  the  balance  weighed, 

Is  light  and  worthless  clay  — 
The  shroud  his  robe  of  state, 

His  canopy  the  stone  : 
The  Mede  is  at  his  gate ! 

The  Persian  on  his  throne ! " 


Address  to  the    Ocean. — Byb»h. 

Roll  on,  thou  deep  and  dark  blue  ocean --roll ! 
Ten  thousand  fleets  sweep  over  the-;  in  vain. 
Man  marks  the  earth  with  ruin  :  hi*3  contr  A 
Stops  with  the  shore  ;  —  upon  the  watery  plain 
The  wrecks  are  all  thy  deed,  nor  doth  rt  main 
A  shadow  of  man's  ravage,  save  his  own  ; 
When  for  a  moment,  like  a  drop  of  rair , 
He  sinks  into  thy  depths,  with  bubbling  groan, 
Without  a  grave,  unknelled,  uncoffined,  a  id  unknown 

The  armaments  which  thunderstrike  the  walls 
Of  rock-built  cities,  bidding  nations  quake, 
And  monarchs  tremble  in  their  capitals, — 
The  oak  leviathans,  whose  huge  ribs  make 
Their  clay  creator  the  vain  title  take 
Of  lord  of  thee,  and  arbiter  of  war, — 
These  are  thy  toys,  and,  as  the  snowy  flake, 
Thev  melt  into  thy  yeast  of  waves,  which  mar 
Alike  the  Armada's  pride  or  spoils  of  Trafalgar 

Thy  shores  are  empires,  changed  in  all  save  thee  - 
Assyria,  Greece,  Rome,  Carthage,  what  are  they  ? 
Thy  waters  wasted  them  while  they  were  free, 
And  many  a  tyrant  since :  their  shores  obev 
The  stranger,  slave,  or  savage  :   their  uecaj 


292  ROSS'S   SPEAKER. 

Has  dried  up  realms  to  deserts.     Not  so  thou . 
Unchangeable,  save  to  thy  wild  waves'  play, 
Time  writes  no  wrinkles  on  thine  azure  brow: 
Such  as  creation's  dawn  beheld,  thou  rollest  now. 

Thou  glorious  mirror,  where  th'  Almighty's  form 
Glasses  itself  in  tempests ;  in  all  time, 
(Calm  or  convulsed,  in  breeze,  or  gale,  or  storm, 
Icing  the  pole,  or  in  the  torrid  clime 
Dark-heaving,)  —  boundless,  endless,  and  sublime  — 
Tbe  image  of  Eternity  —  the  throne 
Of  the  Invisible  ;  even  from  out  thy  slime 
The  monsters  of  the  deep  are  made ;  each  zone 
Obeys  thee  ;  thou  goest  forth,  dread,  fathomless,  alone. 


The  Sim-burnt  Man.— Stahl. 

An  affidavit  was  made  by  Augustus  Dormouse  yesterday  aftei 
noon,  against  Clarence  Fitz-Butter,  for  burning  him  with  a  burn- 
ing glass. 

Augustus  Dormouse,  being  sworn  by  the  recorder,  deposed : 
Time  of  the  alleged  offence  was  about  two  o'clock,  P.  M.,  on 
Tuesday  afternoon.  Place,  shade  of  a  tree,  on  the  Neutral 
Ground.  Deponent  was  asleep  ;  was  oppressed  by  the  sultriness 
of  the  weather,  and  wished  for  a  little  repose.  Was  quite  sound 
asleep  when  accused  came  across  him.  Felt  something  sting 
him  behind  —  on  the  back,  between  the  shoulders.  Had  no 
jacket  on.  Shirt  slightly  torn.  Pain  increased  till  it  felt  like  a 
coal  of  fire.  Screamed,  and  awoke.  Saw  accused  draw  back 
a  burning  glass,  and  slip  it  in  his  pocket. 

Cross-examined  :  Does  not  consider  himself  a  vagrant.  Is  of 
a  poetical  temperament,  and  likes  the  look  of  green  things.  Has 
no  particular  residence.  Does  small  chores  for  a  living.  Native 
of  Indiana  —  of  highly  respectable  family. 

Clarence  Fitz-Butter,  a  quizzical-looking  vagabond,  who  was 
much  better  dressed  than  the  plaintiff,  and  carried  several  stumps 
of  cigars  in  his  pockets,  very  offensive  to  the  smell,  and  an  in- 
congruous assortment  of  burning,  mostly  spectacle,  glasses,  here 
begged  the  recorder  to  allow  him  to  explain. 

The  recorder  granted  the  request  of  the  prisoner. 

"  I  am  a  philosopher,"  observed  Fitz-Butter,  "  and  am  pecu 
liarly  inclined  to  the  investigation  of  light.     I  have  Derused  the 


NOTHING  IN  IT.  293 

works  of  Herschel,  Davy,  Daguerre,  Faraday,  and  Draper.  My 
vest  pocket  is  a  laboratory.  In  it  I  constantly  keep  a  supply  of 
sun  glasses.  I  make  it  a  point  to  draw  a  focus  as  often  as  possi- 
ble. I  wish  not  to  allow  a  ray  to  pass  me.  Every  beam  I  sub- 
ject to  my  glass.  Sir,  this  is  necessary  with  my  theory  of  nature. 
I  am  of  the  opinion  that  every  thing  in  nature  is  combustible,  or  it 
is  not  combustible.  How  simple  an  arrangement !  how  concise 
a  method  !  Combustible  —  non-combustible.  With  my  illumi- 
nated foci,  I  explore  the  hidden  arcana  of  nature.  I  carry  the 
torch  into  her  darkest  labyrinths.  I  apply  a  match  to  her,  and 
she  reports  or  she  does  not  report.  I  have,  in  my  busy  and  de- 
voted life,  accumulated  a  great  store  of  facts.  I  will  give  your 
honor  a  list  of  the  combustible  objects  in  nature  —  a  list " 

"  I  will  not  listen,"  said  the  justice.  "  What  have  you  to  ob- 
serve relative  to  burning  Augustus  Dormouse  ?" 

"  This,"  resumed  Fitz-Butter.  "Accidentally,  I  encountered 
the  prone  body  of  the  individual  responding  to  the  appellation  of 
Augustus  Dormouse.  Him  I  had  never  seen  before,  and  there- 
fore not  examined.  Now,  was  the  sleeper  combustible,  or  was 
he  not  ?  Is  he  —  a  salamander,  and  can  stand  fire  ?  With  the 
thought,  instantly  I  produced  my  sun  glass.  His  back  is  ex- 
posed, his  shirt  being  torn  between  the  shoulders.  I  draw  a 
focus  on  the  exposed  skin.  I  lay  my  tablets  on  the  grass,  in 
readiness  to  record  any  important  and  wonderful  discovery  I  may 
make.  But  the  sleeper  stirs  in  his  sleep  —  he  is  combustible  — 
he  wakes,  and  stares  with  best**!  rage  upon  me.  Upon  me — a 
philosopher !  Nay,  more  ;  he  complains  to  the  police,  he  causes 
my  arrest,  he  heaps  upon  me  the  disgrace  of  a  public  exhibi- 
tion and  a  penal  trial.  What  does  he  not  deserve  ?  I  appeal  to 
your  honor,  what  does  he  not  deserve  ?  Punish  the  Vandal, 
recorder,  to  the  utmost  extent  the  laws  of  the  country  and  your 
official  oath  will  permit." 


Nothing  in  tY.— Charlbs  Mathbws. 

Leech.  But  you  don't  laugh,  Coldstream  !  Come,  man,  be 
amused,  for  once  in  your  life.     You  don't  laugh. 

Sir  Charles.    O,  yes,  I  do.     You   mistake ;  I   laughed  twice 
distinctly  —  only,  the  fact  is,  I  am  bored  to  death. 

Leech.  Bored  ?  What !  after  such  a  feast  as  that  you  have 
given  us?  Look  at  me.  I'm  inspired.  I'm  a  king  at  this 
moment,  and  all  the  world  is  at  my  feet. 


294  ROSS'S   SPEAKER. 

Sir  C.  My  deai  Leech,  you  began  life  late.  \ou  are  a  young 
fellow,  —  forty-five,  —  and  have  the  world  yet  before  you.  I 
started  at  thirteen,  lived  quick,  and  exhausted  the  whole  round 
of  pleasuie  before  I  was  thirty.  I've  tried  every  thing,  heard 
every  thing,  done  every  thing,  know  every  thing  ;  and  here  I  am, 
a  man  of  thirty -three,  literally  used  up  —  completely  blase  ! 

Leech.  Nonsense,  man !  Used  up,  indeed !  with  your  wealth, 
with  your  twenty  estates  in  the  sunniest  spots  in  England,  —  not 
to  mention  that  Utopia,  within  four  walls,  in  the  Rue  de  Provence^ 
in  Paris. 

Sir  C.    I'm  dead  with  ennui. 

Leech.    Ennui !  poor  Croesus. 

Sir  C.  Crcesus  !  —  no,  I  'm  no  Croesus.  My  father,  —  you  've 
seen  his  portrait,  good  old  fellow!  —  he  certainly  did  leave  me  a 
little  matter  of  twelve  thousand  pounds  a  year  ;  but,  after  all 

Leech.    O,  come  ! 

Sir  C.    O,  I  don't  complain  of  it. 

Leech.    I  should  think  not. 

Sir  C.  O,  no ;  there  are  some  people  who  can  manage  to  do 
on  less  —  on  credit. 

Leech.  I  know  several.  My  dear  Coldstream,  you  should  try 
change  of  scene. 

Sir  C.    I  have  tried  it.     What 's  the  use  ? 

Leech.    But  I'd  gallop  all  over  Europe. 

Sir  C.    I  have.     There 's  nothing  in  it. 

Leech.    Nothing  in  all  Europe  ? 

Sir  C.  Nothing !  O,  dear,  yes.  I  remember,  at  one  time,  1 
did,  somehow,  go  about  a  good  deal. 

Leech.   You  should  go  to  Switzerland. 

Sir  C.  I  have  been.  Nothing  there  —  people  say  so  much 
about  every  thing.  There  certainly  were  a  few  glaciers,  some 
monks,  and  large  dogs,  and  thick  ankles,  and  bad  wine,  and 
Mont  Blanc  ;  yes,  and  there  was  ice  on  the  top,  too ;  but  I  prefer 
the  ice  at  Gunter's  —  less  trouble,  and  more  in  it. 

Leech.    Then,  if  Switzerland  wouldn't  do,  I'd  try  Italy. 

Sir  C.  My  dear  Leech,  I've  tried  it  over  and  over  again — 
and  what  then  ? 

Leech.    Did  not  Rome  inspire  you  ? 

Sir  C.  O,  believe  me,  Tom,  a  most  horrible  hole.  People 
talk  so  much  about  these  things !  There  's  the  Coliseum,  now 
—  round,  very  round,  —  a  goodish  ruin  enough;  but  I  was  dis- 
appointed with  it.  Capitol — tolerably  high;  and  St.  Peter's  — 
marble,  and  mosaics,  and  fountains — dome  certainly  nDt  badly 
scooped ;  but  there  was  nothing  in  it. 


NOTHING   IN  IT.  21)5 

Leech.  Conic,  Coldstream,  you  must  admit  we  have  nothing 
like  St.  Peter's  in  London. 

Sir  C.  No,  because  we  don't  want  it ;  but  if  we  wanted  such 
a  thing,  of  course  we  should  have  it.  A  dozen  gentlemen  meet, 
pass  resolutions,  institute,  and  in  twelve  months  it  would  be  run 
up  ;  nay,  if  that  were  all,  we'd  buy  St.  Peter's  itself,  and  have  it 
sent  over. 

Leech.  Ha,  ha!  well  said  —  you're  quite  right.  What  say 
you  to  beautiful  Naples  ? 

Sir  C.  Not  bad  —  excellent  watermelons,  ana  goodish  opera. 
They  took  me  up  Vesuvius  —  a  horrid  bore  !  It  smoked  a  good 
deal,  certainly,  but  altogether  a  wretched  mountain  —  saw  the 
crater  —  looked  down,  but  there  was  nothing  in  it. 

Leech.    But  the  bay  ? 

Sir  C.    Inferior  to  Dublin. 

Leech.    The  Campagna  ? 

Sir  C.    A  swamp. 

Leech.    Greece  ? 

Sir  C.    A  morass. 

Leech.    Athens  ? 

Sir  C.    A  bad  Edinburgh. 

Leech.    Egypt  ? 

Sir  C.    A  desert. 

Leech.    The  pyramids  ? 

Sir  C.  Flumbugs  !  — nothing  in  any  of  them.  You  bore  me. 
Is  it  possible  that  you  can  not  invent  something  that  would  make 
my  blood  boil  in  my  veins,  my  hair  stand  on  end,  my  heart  beat, 
my  pulse  rise  ;  that  would  produce  an  excitement,  an  emotion,  a 
sensation,  a  palpitation  ?     But  no  ! 

Leech.    I've  an  idea  ! 

Sir  C.   You  ?     What  is  it  ? 

Leech.    Marry ! 

Sir  C.  Hum!  —  well,  not  bad.  There's  novelty  about  the 
notion  ;  it  never  did  strike  me  to —  0,  but  no  :  I  should  be  bored 
with  the  exertion  of  choosing.  If  a  wife,  now,  could  be  had  like 
a  dinner  —  for  ordering  ! 

Leech.  She  can,  by  you.  Take  the  first  woman  that  comes  : 
on  my  life,  she'll  not  refuse  twelve  thousand  pounds  a  year. 

Sir  C.  Come,  I  don't  dislike  the  project  ;  I  almost  feel  some- 
thing like  a  sensation  coming.  I  haven't  felt  so  excited  for  some 
time  ;  it's  a  novel  enjovment  —  a  surprise.     I  '11  try  it. 


296  ROSS'S   SPEAKER. 


The  Chameleon.  —  Mbuiob. 

Oft  has  it  been  my  lot  to  mark 
A  proud,  conceited,  talking  spark, 
Returning  from  his  finished  tour, 
Grown  ten  times  perter  than  before  : 
Whatever  word  you  chance  to  drop, 
The  traveled  fool  your  mouth  will  stop :  — 
"  Sir,  if  my  judgment  you'll  allow  — 
I've  seen  —  and  sure  I  ought  to  know  ; " 
So  begs  you'd  pay  a  due  submission, 
And  acquiesce  in  his  decision. 

Two  travelers  of  such  a  cast, 
As  o'er  Arabia's  wilds  they  passed, 
And  on  their  way,  in  friendly  chat, 
Now  talked  of  this,  and  then  of  that, 
Discoursed  awhile,  'mongst  other  matter, 
Of  the  chameleon's  form  and  nature. 
"A  stranger  animal,"  cries  one, 
"  Sure  never  lived  beneath  the  sun; 
A  lizard's  body,  lean  and  long, 
A  fish's  head,  a  serpent's  tongue, 
Its  tooth  with  triple  claw  disjoined  ; 
And  what  a  length  of  tail  behind ! 
How  slow  its  pace  !  and  then  its  hue  — 
Who  ever  saw  so  fine  a  blue  ? " 

"  Hold  there  !  "  the  other  quick  replies  — 
"  'Tis  green  ;  I  saw  it  with  these  eyes, 
As  late  with  open  mouth  it  lay, 
And  warmed  it  in  the  sunny  ray  ; 
Stretched  at  its  ease,  the  beast  I  viewed, 
And  saw  it  eat  the  air  for  food." 

u  I've  seen  it,  sir,  as  well  as  you, 
And  must  again  affirm  it  blue ; 
At  leisure  I  the  beast  surveyed, 
Extended  in  the  cooling  shade." 

"  'Tis  green  !  'tis  green,  sir,  1  assure  ye  I  K 

"  Green  ?  "  cries  the  other,  in  a  fury  ; 

"  Why,  sir,  d'ye  think  I've  lost  my  eyes  r  M 


NEW   ENGLAND    FARMER.  297 

"  'Twere  no  great  loss,"  the  friend  replies ; 
"  For  if  they  always  use  you  thus, 
You'll  find  them  but  of  little  use." 

So  high,  at  last,  the  contest  rose, 
From  words  they  almost  came  to  blows ; 
When  luckily  came  by  a  third ; 
To  him  the  question  they  referred, 
And  begged  he'd  tell  them,  if  he  knew, 
Whether  the  thing  was  green  or  blue. 

"  Sirs,"  said  the  umpire,  "  cease  your  pother 
The  creature's  neither  one  nor  t'other. 
I  caught  the  animal  last  night, 
And  viewed  it  o'er  by  candle  light ; 
I  marked  it  well  —  'twas  black  as  jet : 
You  stare  —  but,  sirs,  I've  got  it  yet, 
And  can  produce  it."  —  "  Pray,  sir,  do  ; 
I'll  lay  my  life  the  thing  is  blue." 
"  And  I'll  be  sworn,  that  when  you've  seen 
The  reptile,  you'll  pronounce  him  green."  — 
"  Well,  then,  at  once  to  end  the  doubt," 
Replies  the  man,  "  I'll  turn  him  out ; 
And  when  before  your  eyes  I've  set  him, 
If  you  don't  find  him  black,  Til  eat  him." 
Me  said  —  then  full  before  their  sight 
Produced  the  beast ;  and,  lo  !  'twas  white  ! 

Both  stared  ;  the  man  looked  wondrous  wise. 
"  My  children,"  the  chameleon  cries, — 
Then  first  the  creature  found  a  tongue, — 
"  You  all  are  right,  and  all  are  wrong. 
When  next  you  talk  of  what  you  view, 
Think  others  see  as  well  as  you, 
Nor  wonder  if  you  find  that  none 
Prefers  your  eyesight  to  his  own." 


Knickerbocker's  New  England  Farmer.  —  w.  invino. 

Tn2  first  thought  of  a  Yankee  farmer,  on  coming  to  the  years 
of  manhood,  is  to  settle  himself  in  the  world  —  which  means 
..othing  more  than  to  begin  his  rambles.     To  this  end,  he  tukrs 


298  BOSS'S  SPEAKER. 

to  himself  for  a  wife  some  buxom  country  heiress,  passing  rich 
in  red  ribbons,  glass  beads,  and  mock  tortoise-shell  combs,  with 
a  white  gown  and  morocco  shoes  for  Sunday,  and  deeply  skilled 
in  the  mystery  of  making  apple  sweetmeats,  long  sauce,  and 
pumpkin  pie.  Having  thus  provided  himself,  like  a  pedler,  with 
a  heavy  knapsack,  wherewith  to  regale  his  shoulders  through  the 
journey  of  life,  he  literally  sets  out  on  his  peregrinations. 

His 'whole  family,  household  furniture,  and  farming  utensils, 
are  hoisted  into  a  covered  cart ;  his  own  and  wife's  wardrobe 
packed  up  in  a  firkin  —  which  done,  he  shoulders  his  axe,  takes 
staff  in  his  hand,  whistles  "  Yankee  Doodle,"  and  trudges  off  to 
the  woods,  as  confident  of  the  protection  of  Providence,  and  re- 
lying as  cheerfully  on  his  own  resources,  as  ever  did  a  patriarch 
of  yore,  when  he  journeyed  into  a  strange  country  of  the  Gen- 
tiles. Having  buried  himself  in  the  wilderness,  he  builds  himself 
a  log  hut,  clears  away  a  cornfield  and  potato  patch,  and,  Provi- 
dence smiling  upon  his  labors,  he  is  soon  surrounded  by  a  snug 
farm,  and  some  half  a  score  of  flaxen-headed  urchins,  who,  by 
their  size,  seem  to  have  sprung  all  at  once  out  of  the  earth,  like 
a  crop  of  toadstools. 

But  it  is  not  the  nature  of  this  most  indefatigable  of  speculators 
to  rest  contented  with  any  state  of  sublunary  enjoyment :  im- 
provement is  his  darling  passion  ;  and  having  thus  improved  his 
lands,  the  next  state  is  to  provide  a  mansion  worthy  the  residence 
of  a  landholder.  A  huge  palace  of  pine  boards  immediately 
springs  up  in  the  midst  of  the  wilderness,  large  enough  for  a 
parish  church,  and  furnished  with  windows  of  all  dimensions  ; 
but  so  rickety  and  flimsy  withal,  that  every  blast  gives  it  a  fit  of 
the  ague.  By  the  time  the  outside  of  this  mighty  air  castle  is 
completed,  eithr  the  funds  or  the  zeal  of  our  adventurer  are 
exhausted,  so  that  he  barely  manages  to  half  finish  one  room 
within,  where  the  whole  family  burrow  together,  while  the  rest 
of  the  house  is  devoted  to  the  curing  of  pumpkins,  or  storing  of 
carrots  and  potatoes,  and  is  decorated  with  fanciful  festoons  of 
dried  apples  and  peaches.' 

The  outside,  remaining  unpainted,  grows  venerably  black  with 
time  ;  the  family  wardrobe  is  laid  under  contribution  for  old  hats, 
petticoats,  and  breeches,  to  stuff  into  the  broken  windows;  while 
the  four  winds  of  heaven  keep  up  a  whistling  and  howling  about 
the  aerial  palace,  and  play  as  many  unruly  gambols  as  they  dn? 
of  yore  in  the  cave  of  iEolus.  The  humble  log  hut,  which 
whilom  nestled  this  improving  family  snugly  within  its  narrow 
but  comfortable  walls,  stands  hard  by  —  ignominious  contrast '. 
—  degraded  into  a  cow  house  or  pig  sty  ;  and  the  whole  scene 


SUSPENSION    OF  RELATIONS    WITH   AUSTRIA.      293 

reminds  one  forcibly  of  a  fable,  which  1  am  surpnsed  has  never 
been  recorded,  of  an  aspiring  snail,  who  abandoned  his  humble 
habitation,  which  he  had  long  filled  with  great  respectability,  to 
crawl  into  the  empty  shell  of  a  lobster,  where  he  could,  no  doubt 
have  resided  with  great  style  and  splendor,  the  envy  and  hate  of 
all  the  painstaking  snails  in  his  neighborhood,  had  he  not  acci- 
dentally perished  with  cold  in  one  corner  of  his  stupendous  man- 
sion. 

Being  thus  completely  settled,  and,  to  use  his  own  words,  "  to 
rights,"  one  would  imagine  that  he  would  begin  to  enjoy  the 
comforts  of  his  situation,  to  read  newspapers,  to  talk  politics,  neg- 
lect his  own  business,  and  attend  to  the  affairs  of  the  nation,  like 
a  useful  or  patriotic  citizen ;  but  now  it  is  that  his  wayward  dis- 
position again  begins  to  operate.  He  soon  grows  tired  of  a  spot 
where  there  is  no  longer  any  room  for  improvement,  sells  his 
farm,  (his  air  castle,)  petticoat  windows  and  all,  reloads  his  cart, 
shoulders  his  axe,  puts  himself  at  the  head  of  his  family,  and 
wanders  away  in  search  of  new  lands,  again  to  fell  trees,  again 
to  clear  cornfields,  again  to  build  a  shingle  palace,  and  again  to 
sell  off  and  wander. 


The  Suspension  of  Diplomatic  Relations  with 
Austria.  —  m.  t.  Hcnteh. 

Mr.  President,  I  know  that  I  shall  be  accused  of  a  want  of 
sympathy  for  the  Hungarians,  whose  case  excites  so  much  atten- 
tion here.  So  far  as  I  am  personally  concerned,  I  care  nothing 
for  such  accusations,  for  I  have  a  witness  within  me  which  pro- 
nounces them  false.  But,  sir,  I  should  be  unwilling  to  inflict  a 
new  pang  upon  the  unfortunate  Hungarian,  by  doing  any  thing 
to  give  countenance  to  the  idea  that  there  was  any  man  or  class 
of  men  here  who  did  not  respect  and  sympathize  with  him  in  his 
nnisfortunes.  I  was  no  uninterested  observer  of  his  struggle  — 
no  unmoved  witness  of  its  final  catastrophe.  If  my  good  wishes 
CO  ild  have  availed  him,  he  had  them  all.  I  have  studied  their 
'ustory  with  interest,  and  learned  to  admire  and  respect  their  na- 
tional character.  There  is  a  wild  mixture  of  Oriental  fervor  and 
western  chivalry  about  them,  which  has  always  made  them  objects 
of  rather  a  romantic  interest.  History,  that  gr;at  record  of  hu- 
man affairs,  is  full  of  startling  contrasts  and  striking  vicissitudes 
and  the  chapter  01  that  great  hook  which  belongs  to  Hungary 
and  her  people  ia  marly  as  eventful  as  any. 

When  I  firs',   heard,  sir.  that  th<    Hungarian   patriots  had  been 


300  ROSS'S  SPEAKER. 

forced  to  take  refuge  with  the  Turk,  and  seek  at  his  hands  the 
charity  of  an  asylum  which  Christendom  refused  them,  I  could 
hut  recall  the  day  when  that  country  was  the  bulwark  of  Chris- 
tendom against  the  Infidel,  and  Hunniades  made  good  its  title  to 
that  debatable  land  between  the  Crescent  and  the  Cross.  When 
1  saw  who  the  oppressor  was,  whose  foot  was  upon  the  neck  of 
bleeding  Hungary,  I  could  but  recur  to  the  time  when  a  noble 
ancestress  of  his,  who  to  the  los'eliness  of  woman  added  the  soul 
of  a  Caesar,  threw  herself  upon  those  people  for  succor  and  pro- 
tection. The  scene  arose  before  me,  as  it  appears  on  the  pic- 
tured page  of  Macaulay,  in  which  she  is  represented  upon  horse- 
back, weak  from  recent  suffering,  yet  strong  in  will,  flushed  under 
the  weight  of  St.  Stephen's  iron  crown,  and  after  a  fashion  of 
her  race,  which  would  have  been  deemed  extravagant  by  any 
but  an  Oriental  imagination,  waving  the  sword  of  state  to  the  four 
quarters  of  the  heavens,  and  bidding  defiance  to  the  earth. 

But  hard  as  has  been  the  lesson  taught  the  Hungarian  in  his 
recent  struggles,  it  would  do  no  good  for  foreign  powers  to  in- 
terpose in  his  favor,  and  give  him  armed  assistance ;  still  less 
would  it  be  of  any  avail  to  offer  him  such  a  resolution  of  sympa- 
thy as  this.  There  is  not,  sir,  on  the  page  of  history,  an  instance 
of  a  nation  which  has  maintained  its  liberty  by  foreign  aid  ;  for 
the  moment  the  protecting  hand  is  withdrawn,  it  must  fall,  unless 
it  has  some  internal  resources  —  some  means  within  itself  of 
maintaining  its  independence,  and  for  self-defense.  I  have  said, 
sir,  that  this  resolution  of  sympathy  will  do  the  Hungarian  cause 
no  good.  But  is  that  enough  to  say  ?  Is  there  no  danger  that 
it  may  do  that  brave  but  unfortunate  people  some  harm  ?  It  has 
been  said,  by  wise  and  observing  men,  that  the  final  catastrophe 
of  Poland  was  probably  hastened  by  imprudent  speeches  made 
in  the  British  House  of  Commons  and  the  French  Chamber  of 
Deputies.  It  is  said  that  those  imprudent  but  sympathizing 
speeches  awakened  false  hopes  in  Poland,  and  led  to  unwise 
movements  there. 

Is  there  no  danger  that  such  a  course  of  action  as  is  proposed 
here  might  give  rise  to  unfounded  hopes  in  Hungary,  or  increase, 
perhaps,  their  sufferings  by  irritating  those  who  govern  then? 
But,  sir,  be  that  as  it  may  with  regard  to  Hungary,  I  am  not  pre- 
pared to  take  this  step  from  considerations  of  what  is  due  to  my 
own  country.  \  give  Hungary  my  best  wishes,  my  earnest  sym- 
pathy;  but  I  prefer  my  own  country  to  any  other,  and  I  can  not 
sacrifice  its  interests  for  those  of  another.  I  was  sent  here  to 
legislate,  not  for  foreign  nations,  but  my  own.  I  will  not  abandon 
my  own  dutip^in  the  attempt  to  discharge  those  of  another.    It 


THE   MISSIONARY    ENTERPRISE.  SO 

would  doubtless  be  pleasing  to  any  ge:.erous  mind  to  indulge  the 
demands  of  sympathy ;  yet,  sir,  truth  and  justice  are  of  higher 
obligation,  and  ought  to  be  of  higher  consideration  still.  Mr. 
President,  I  can  not  vote  for  this  resolution.  I  owe  it  not  only  to 
my  own  country,  but  to  the  rights  of  man,  of  which  so  much  is 
said,  to  preserve  the  wise  and  long-established  policy  of  the  for- 
mer, and  to  stand  by  the  principle  of  non-intervention  as  a  high 
moral  defense  and  security  for  the  other. 


The  Missionary  Enterprise. 

The  soul  goes  out  with  tears.  Sublimity  may  fill  the  eye  with 
fire,  thrill  through  the  frame,  and  give  new  intensity  to  the  con- 
sciousness of  existence  ;  tenderness  carries  a  man  from  himself 
and  gives  up  his  poured-out  afFections  into  the  bosom  of  another. 
The  one  enlarges ;  the  other  diffuses  and  distributes  through  the 
wide  range  of  humanity  its  own  forgotten  being.  The  one  may 
be  excited  by  the  voice  of  the  thunder  speaking  solemnly  to  the 
dark  clouds,  by  the  beetling  brow  of  the  mountain,  by  the  sound 
of  many  waters ;  the  other  claims  no  affinities  with  inanimate 
bulk  or  brutal  force  —  its  gushing  affections  flow  only  at  the 
touch  of  the  soul,  or  when  the  Spirit  of  God  breathos  upon  the 
heart,  disposing  it  to  immense  goodness  and  the  overflowing  of 
benevolence. 

Just  before  the  missionary  enterprise  commenced,  the  earth 
presented  one  of  its  darkest  historical  pictures.  War  —  war  — 
with  brazen  throat  bellowed  from  continent  to  continent,  and 
howled  over  every  sea.  The  truce  was  asked  only  to  renew  the 
stores  of  national  venom,  and  the  preparations  for  lational  exter- 
mination. The  remote  shores  of  this  western  world  were  stained 
with  fratricidal  blood,  and  shaded  with  Gallic  and  British  stan- 
dards. Side  by  side,  quiet  at  last  v..  death,  on  the  gory  fields 
of  the  American  revolution,  lay  the  soldier  of  England,  the  sol- 
dier of  France,  of  I lesse,  of  Prussia,  of  Poland ;  and  yet  the 
American  struggle  was  only  as  a  drop  before  a  mighty  cataract 
of  waters,  precipitated  by  whirlwinds  from  the  rent  clouds  to  the 
earth,  when  compared  with  the  gigantic  march  from  the  Champ 
It,  Mars  to  the  pyramids  of  the  Nile,  and  from  the  Eternal  City 
to  thi-  3mbers  of  Moscow,  hurling  ancient  dynasties  to  the  howling 
*inds,  and  forming  bubble  kingdoms  of  imposing,  though  tran- 
sient magnificence,  where  the  beast  of  the  iron  foot  had  trodden 
down  the  concentrations  of  the  feudal  ages. 


302  ROSS'S   SPEAKER. 

The  world  was  full  of  widows  and  orphans.  There  was  no 
comforter.  Infidelity  would  not  stand  by  its  followers,  either  in 
iife  or  death.  None  but  the  messengers  of  the  Most  High  could 
impart  consolation.  They  came  ;  angels,  having  the  everlasting 
gospel  to  preach,  brushed  away  the  sulphur  clouds  of  battle, 
and  taught  that  the  nations  should  love  each  other,  and  learn  war 
no  more.  As  far  as  their  silver  trumpets  have  sounded,  and  the 
ravishing  music  of  their  song  been  heard  by  the  kingdoms  of  the 
earth,  so  far  has  sweet  peace,  to  a  very  great  extent,  succeeded, 
and  the  milk  of  human  kindness  has  been  poured  out  to  the  sor- 
rowful and  afflicted. 


The  Missionary  Spirit. 

A  ship  was  seen  bearing  up  against  the  obstinate  winds  of  the 
great  Indian  Ocean.     It  moved  without  proclamation,  or  shout, 
or  defiance  —  bowing  like  a  reed  before  the  monsoon,  and  glan- 
cing through  the  permitting  waves  like  a  peaceful  swan.     There 
were  on  board  that  ship  two  hearts  united  by  the  tenderest  love 
—  he,  the  missionary  and  minister  of  the  cross  —  she,  the  lovelj 
vine,  clinging  to  the  oak  for  human  support,  while  she  lifts  u\ 
her  rich  clusters  to  heaven.     One  in  the  Christian  faith  —  one  ii 
the  glorious  purpose  of  preaching  the  gospel  to  the  heathen  — 
one  in  the  sacred  union  of  souls  —  in  the  mingling  of  pure  affec 
tions.     Happy  pair!   how  shall  the  heavens  glow  with  eterna 
beauty  over  your  heads,  to  shelter  you  from  the  scorchings  of 
India's  fierce-haired  sun  —  and  how  shall  the  balmy  winds  breathf 
health  over  the  waste,  that  these  lovely  pioneers  of  America) 
benevolence  to  heathen  India  may  long  breathe  the  vital  air,  ant 
go  on  together  to  lift's  far  distant  verge,  loving  the  miserabl' 
more  and  more,  as  their  own  love  toward  each  other  gains  new 
strength  at  every  successive  stage  of  their  Christ-like  career ! 

But  why  the  tumult  of  baffling  winds  ?  The  coast  of  India 
gained  and  lost,  and  gained  and  lost  again,  is  like  the  tantalizing 
stream,  that,  fabulous,  flies  away  from  the  thirsty  lip.  The  ves- 
sel, like  a  sea  bird  on  ruffled  wing,  scours  along  under  the  angry 
brow  of  the  tempest.  Why  does  gloom  gather  on  the  good 
man's  brow  ?  Why  sits  he  pale  and  disconsolate,  disturbed  and 
agonizing,  by  the  bedside  of  his  companion,  all  the  livelong 
night,  and  why  watch  out  the  day  ?  Shall  she  die  —  away  from 
the  land  of  her  fathers  —  away  from  every  tender  tie,  save  her 
husband  and  her  God  —  even  before  the  great  work  fior  which  shp 


AGAINST   FOREIGN   INFLUENCE.  303 

.ived,  for  which  she  had  renounced  country  and  friends,  had 
been  commenced  ? 

Prepare  thyself  for  bitterness,  thou  pale  watcher ;  for  thou  art 
all  lonely  and  sorrowful,  by  the  dying  bed  of  that  devoted  being, 
whose  heart,  though  breaking  up  in  death,  still  clings  to  thee. 
Thou  art  the  only  witness  of  these  last  looks,  which  reveai 
thoughts  of  impassioned  fervor  —  far- wandering  ones,  that  travel 
life  over  in  a  twinkling  of  time,  recalling  every  thought,  every 
endearing  word.  She  steps  alone  into  eternity,  pointing  with  her 
farewell  gesture  to  idolatrous  India.  In  the  spicy  isle  of  the  far- 
off  Indian  Ocean,  a  column  of  marble  bears  this  plaintive  tale, 
and  bears  the  name  of  Harriet  Newel'. 

A  traveler  on  his  horse  was  toiling  beneath  the  sun  of  Georgia. 
He  had  overpassed  the  sands.  The  broken  hills,  the  forests,  the 
rude  wigwam,  the  dark  scowls  of  Indian  suspicion  rose  on  his 
view,  like  the  fantasms  of  a  hideous  dream.  He  meekly  spoke 
to  those  who  had  rarely  known  the  white  man,  save  in  battle  or 
treachery  ;  he  spoke  to  them  tenderly  of  Jesus  ;  he  told  them  how 
his  Savior  and  their  Savior  had  died  for  them,  and  how,  like 
his  Savior,  he  was  willing  to  lay  down  his  life  for  them  if  they 
would  only  love  his  Lord.  Surprised  and  overpowered  to  tears 
by  such  language  from  a  white  man,  the  unbending  sternness  of 
the  savage  character  began  to  soften  into  the  mellowness  and 
glow  of  Christian  love.  This  traveler  loved  these  benighted  In- 
dians unto  death.  He  laid  himself  down  on  their  blanket,  and 
they  saw,  with  broken  and  adcring  hearts,  how  a  good  man,  a 
lamented  missionary,  could  die. 


Against  Foreign  Influence.  —  Milled  *illmoiw.. 

[Extract  of  a  private  letter  written  by  the  ex-president,  from  the  shades 
of  his  retirement  in  Buffalo,  N.  Y., 

I  confess  that  it  seems  to  me  —  with  all  due  respect  to  others 
—  that,  as  a  general  rule,  our  country  should  be  governed  by 
American  born  citizens.  Let  us  give  to  the  oppressed  of  every 
country  an  asylum  and  a  home  in  our  happy  land  ;  give  to  all 
the  benefits  of  equal  laws  and  equal  protection;  but  let  us  at  the 
same  time  cherish  as  the  apple  of  our  eye  the  great  principles  of 
constitutional  liberty,  which  few,  who  have  not  had  the  good  for- 
tune to  be  reared  in  a  free  country,  know  how  to  appreciate,  j, v. 
»iill  lees  how  to  preserve. 


304  ROSS'S   SPEAKER. 

Washington,  in  that  inestimable  legacy  which  he  left  to  his 
country,  —  his  Farewell  Address,*  —  has  wisely  warned  us  to  be- 
ware of  foreign  influence  as  the  most  baneful  foe  of  a  republican 
government.  He  saw  it,  to  be  sure,  in  a  different  light  from  .hat 
in  which  it  now  presents  itself;  but  he  knew  that  it  would  ap- 
proach us  in  all  forms,  and  hence  he  cautioned  us  against  the 
insidious  wiles  of  its  influence.  Therefore,  as  well  for  our  own 
sakes,  to  whom  this  valuable  inheritance  of  self-government  has 
been  left  by  our  forefathers,  as  for  the  sake  of  the  unborn  millions 
who  are  to  inherit  this  land,  —  foreign  and  native,  —  let  us  take 
warning  of  the  Father  of  his  Country,  and  do  what  we  can,  justly, 
to  preserve  our  institutions  from  corruption,  and  our  country  from 
dishonor  ;  but  let  this  be  done  by  the  people  themselves,  in  the'r 
so/ereign  capacity,  by  making  a  proper  discrimination  in  the 
selection  of  officers,  and  not  by  depriving  any  individual  —  native 
or  foreign  born  —  of  any  constitutional  or  legal  right  to  which  he 
is  now  entitled. 

These  are  my  sentiments,  in  brief;  and  although  I  have  some- 
times almost  despaired  of  my  country,  when  I  have  witnessed 
the  rapid  strides  of  corruption,  yet  I  think  I  perceive  a  gleam  of 
hope  in  the  future,  and  I  now  feel  confident,  that  when  the  great 
mass  of  intelligence  in  this  enlightened  country  is  once  fully 
aroused,  and  the  danger  manifested,  it  will  fearlessly  apply  the 
remedy,  and  bring  baik  the  government  to  the  pure  days  of 
Washington's  administration.  Finally,  let  us  adopt  the  old  Ro- 
man motto,  "  Never  despair  of  the  republic.''''  Let  us  do  our 
duty,  and  trust,  for  the  result,  in  that  Providence  which  has 
so  signally  watched  over  and  preserved  us. 


Against  Sectional  Agitation. 

[Closing  portion  of    President  Pierce's   Messaffe,  delivered  to    Congress, 

It  is  necessary  to  speak  plainly  of  projects,  the  offspring  of 
that  sectional  agitation  now  prevailing  in  some  of  the  states, 
which  are  as  impracticable  as  they  are  unconstitutional,  and 
which,  if  they  are  persevered  in,  must  and  will  end  calamitously. 
It  is  either  disunion  and  civil  war,  or  it  is  mere  angry,  idle,  aim- 
less disturbance  of  public  peace  and  tranquillity.  Disunion  for 
t/hct  ?     If  the  passionate  rage  of  fanaticism  and  partisan  spirit 

•  Found  at  the  cloi«  of  this  book. 


ELOQUENCE   AND   LOGIC.  305 

did  not  force  the  fact  upon  our  attention,  it  would  be  difficult  to 
believe  that  any  considerable  portion  of  the  people  of  this  en- 
lightened country  could  have  so  surrendered  themselves  to  a 
fanatical  devotion  to  the  supposed  interests  of  the  relatively  few 
Africans  in  the  United  States,  as  totally  to  abandon  and  disre- 
gard the  interests  of  the  twenty-five  millions  of  Americans,  to 
trample  under  foot  the  injunctions  of  moral  and  constitutional 
obligation,  and  to  engage  in  plans  of  vindictive  hostility  against 
those  who  are  associated  with  them  in  the  enjoyment  of  the  com- 
mon heritage  of  our  national  institutions. 

Nor  is  it  hostility  against  their  fellow-citizens  of  one  section  of 
the  Union  alone.  The  interests,  the  honor,  the  duty,  the  peace, 
and  the  prosperity  of  the  people  of  all  sections  are  equally  in- 
volved and  imperiled  in  this  question.  And  are  patriotic  men 
in  any  part  of  the  Union  prepared,  on  such  an  issue,  thus  madly 
to  invite  all  the  consequences  of  the  forfeiture  of  their  constitu- 
tional engagements  ?  It  is  impossible.  The  storm  of  frenzy  and 
faction  must  inevitably  dash  itself  in  vain  against  the  unshaken 
rock  of  the  constitution.  I  shall  never  doubt  it.  I  know  that  the 
Union  is  stronger  a  thousand  times  than  all  the  wild  and  chimer- 
ical schemes  of  social  change,  which  are  generated,  one  after  an- 
other, in  the  unstable  minds  of  visionary  sophists  and  interested 
agitators.  I  rely  confidently  on  tho  patriotism  of  the  people,  on 
the  dignity  and  self-respect  of  the  states,  on  the  wisdom  of  Con- 
gress, and  above  all,  on  the  continued  gracious  favor  of  Almighty 
God,  to  maintain,  against  all  enemies,  whether  at  home  or  abroad, 
the  sanctity  of  the  constitution  and  the  integrity  of  the  Union. 


Eloquence  and  Logic.  —  William  c.  i'beston. 

Our  popular  institutions  demand  a  talent  for  speaking,  and 
create  a  taste  for  it.  Liberty  and  eloquence  are  united,  :n  all 
uges.  VVhere  the  sovereign  power  is  found  in  the  public  mind 
und  the  public  heart,  eloquence  is  the  obvious  approach  to  it. 
Power  and  honor,  and  all  that  can  attract  ardent  and  aspiring 
natures,  attend  it.  The  noblest  instinct  is  to  propagate  the 
spirit,  "  to  make  our  mind  the  mind  of  other  men,"  and  wield  the 
scepter  in  the  realms  of  passion.  In  the  art  of  speaking,  as  in 
all  other  arts,  a  just  combination  of  those  qualities  necessary  to 
the  end  proposed  is  the  true  rule  of  taste.  Excess  is  always 
wrong.  Too  much  ornament  is  an  evil  —  too  little  also.  The  one 
may  impede  the  progress  of  the  argument,  or  divert  attei.tion 


306  ROSS'S  SPEAKER. 

from  it,  by  the  introduction  of  extraneous  matter ;  the  other  may 
exhauot  attention,  or  weary  by  monotony.  Elegance  is  in  a  just 
medium.  The  safer  side  to  err  on  is  that  of  abundance  —  as 
profusion  is  better  than  poverty ;  as  it  is  better  to  be  detained 
by  the  beauties  of  a  landscape  than  by  the  weariness  of  the 
desert. 

It  is  commonly,  but  mistakenly,  supposed  that  the  enforcing  of 
truth  is  most  successfully  effected  by  a  cold  and  formal  logic ; 
hut  the  subtleties  of  dialectics,  and  the  forms  of  logic,  may  play 
as  fantastic  tricks  with  truth  as  the  most  potent  magic  of  fancy. 
The  attempt  to  apply  mathematical  precision  to  moral  truths  is 
always  a  failure,  and  generally  a  dangerous  one.  If  man,  and 
especially  masses  of  men,  were  purely  intellectual,  then  cold 
reason  would  alone  be  influential  to  convince  ;  but  our  nature  is 
most  complex,  and  many  of  the  great  truths  which  it  most  con- 
cerns us  to  know  are  taught  us  by  our  instincts,  our  sentiments, 
our  impulses,  and  our  passions.  Even  in  regard  to  the  highest 
and  holiest  of  all  truth,  to  know  which  concerns  us  here  and 
hereafter,  we  are  not  permitted  to  approach  its  investigation  in 
the  confidence  of  proud  and  erring  reason,  but  are  taught  to  be- 
come as  little  children  before  we  are  worthy  to  receive  it.  It  is 
to  this  complex  nature  that  the  speaker  addresses  himself,  and 
the  degree  of  power  with  which  all  the  elements  are  evoked  is 
the  criterion  of  the  orator.  His  business,  to  be  sure,  is  to  con- 
vince, but  more  to  persuade  ;  and  most  of  all,  to  inspire  with 
noble  and  generous  passions.  It  is  the  cant  of  criticism  in  all 
ages,  to  make  a  distinction  between  logic  and  eloquence,  and  to 
stigmatize  the  latter  as  declamation.  Logic  ascertains  the  weight 
of  an  argument,  eloquence  gives  it  momentum.  The  difference 
is  that  between  the  vis  inertia  of  a  mass  of  metal,  and  the  samo 
ball  hurled  from  the  cannon's  mouth.  Eloc  uence  is  an  argument 
alive  and  in  motion — the  statue  of  Pygmalion  inspired  with 
vitality. 


For  Independence.— Riohabd  hbnbt  lbb, 

Ths  time  will  certainly  come  when  the  fated  separation  be- 
tween the  mother  country  and  these  colonies  must  take  place, 
whether  you  will  or  no  ;  for  so  it  is  decreed  by  the  very  nature 
of  things  —  by  the  progressive  increase  of  our  population,  the 
fertility  of  our  soil,  the  extent  of  our  territory,  the  industry  of  our 
countrymen,  and  the  immensity  of  the  ocean  which  separates  tho 


FOR   INDEPENDENCE.  30: 

wo  countries.  And,  if  this  be  true,  —  as  it  is  most  true,  —  who 
does  not  see  that  the  sooner  it  takes  place,  the  better ;  that  i' 
would  be  the  height  of  folly  not  to  seize  the  present  occasion, 
when  British  injustice  has  rilled  all  hearts  with  indignation,  in- 
spired all  minds  with  courage,  united  all  opinions  in  one,  and  pu 
arms  in  every  hand  ?  And  how  long  must  we  traverse  three 
thousand  miles  of  a  stormy  sea,  to  solicit  of  arrogant  and  insolent 
men  either  counsels  or  commands  to  regulate  our  domestic  af- 
fairs ?  From  what  we  have  already  achieved,  it  is  easy  to  pre- 
sume what  we  shall  hereafter  accomplish.  Experience  is  the 
source  of  sage  counsels,  and  liberty  is  the  mother  of  great  men. 
Have  you  not  seen  the  enemy  driven  from  Lexington  by  citizens 
armed  and  assembled  in  one  day  ?  Already  their  most  celebrat- 
ed generals  have  yielded  in  Boston  to  the  skill  of  ours.  Already 
their  seamen,  repulsed  from  our  coasts,  wander  over  the  ocean, 
the  sport  of  tempests  and  the  prey  of  famine.  Let  us  hail  the 
favorable  omen,  and  fight,  not  for  the  sake  of  knowing  on  what 
terms  we  are  to  be  the  slaves  of  England,  but  to  secure  to  our- 
selves a  free  existence,  to  found  a  just  and  independent  govern- 
ment. 

Why  do  we  longer  delay  ?  Why  still  deliberate  ?  Let  this 
most  happy  day  give  birth  to  the  American  republic.  Let  her 
arise,  not  to  devastate  and  conquer,  but  to  reestablish  the  reign 
of  peace  and  of  the  laws.  The  eyes  of  Europe  are  fixed  upon 
us ;  she  demands  of  us  a  living  example  of  freedom,  that  may 
contrast,  by  the  felicity  of  the  citizens,  with  the  ever-increasing 
tyranny  which  desolates  her  polluted  shores.  She  invites  us  to 
prepare  an  asylum  where  the  unhappy  may  find  solace,  and  the 
persecuted  repose.  She  entreats  us  to  cultivate  a  propitious  soil, 
where  that  generous  plant  which  first  sprang  up  and  grew  in 
England,  but  is  now  withered  by  the  poisonous  blasts  of  Scottish 
tyranny,  may  revive  and  flourish,  sheltering  under  its  salubrious 
and  interminable  shade  all  the  unfortunate  of  the  human  race. 
This  is  the  end  presaged  by  so  many  omens  —  by  our  first  victo- 
ries; by  the  present  ardor  and  union;  by  the  flight  of  Howe 
and  the  pestilence  which  broke  out  among  Dunmore's  people  : 
by  the  very  winds  which  baffled  the  enemy's  fleets  and  transports, 
and  thai  terrible  tempest  which  ingulfed  seven  hundred  vessels 
upon  the  coasts  of  Newfoundland.  If  we  are  not  this  day  want- 
ing in  our  duty  to  country,  the  names  of  the  American  legislators 
will  be  placed,  by  posterity,  at  the  side  of  those  of  Theseus,  of 
Lycurgus,  of  Romulus,  of  Numa,  of  the  three  Williams  of  Nas- 
sau, and  of  all  those  whose  memory  has  hern,  and  will  be,  for- 
ever dear  to  virtuous  men  and  good  citizens. 


-J08  ROSS'S   SPEAKER. 


The    Raven.  —  Edgar  A.  Pob. 

[In  reference  tc  this  beautiful  poem,  the  Critic  says,  "  In  our  opinion, 
it  is  the  most  effective  single  example  of  fugitive  poetry  ever  published  in 
this  country,  and  unsurpassed  in  English  poetry  for  subtle  conception, 
masterly  ingenuity  of  versification,  and  consistent  sustaining  of  imagi- 
native lift.  It  is  one  of  those  dainties  bred  in  a  book  which  we  feed  on. 
It  will  stick  to  the  memory  of  every  body  who  reads  it."] 

Once  upon   a    midnight  dreary,  while  I   pondered,  weak   and 
weary, 
Over  many  a  quaint  and  curious  volume  of  forgotten  lore, 
While  I  nodded,  nearly  napping,  suddenly  there  came  a  tapping, 
As  of  some  one  gently  rapping,  rapping  at  my  chamber  door. 
"  'Tis  some  visitor,"  I  muttered, "  tapping  at  my  chamber  door ; 
Only  this,  and  nothing  more." 

A.h,  distinctly  I  remember,  it  was  in  the  bleak  December, 

And  each  separate  dying  ember  wrought  its  ghost  upon  the  floor. 
Eagerly  I  wished  the  morrow ;  vainly  I  had  tried  to  borrow 
From  my  books  surcease  of  sorrow,  sorrow  for  the  lost  Lenore, 
For  the  rare    and  radiant  maiden,  whom   the  angels  name 
Lenore, 

Nameless  here  forevermore. 

And  the  silken,  sad,  uncertain  rustling  of  each  purple  curtain 
Thrilled  me,  filled  me  with  fantastic  terrors  never  felt  before ; 

So  that  now,  to  still  the  beating  of  my  heart,  I  stood  repeating, 
"  'Tis  some  visitor  entreating  entrance  at  my  chamber  door, 
Some  late  visitor  entreating  entrance  at  my  chamber  door  ; 
This  it  is,  and  nothing  more." 

Presently  my  soul  grew  stronger ;  hesitating  then  no  longer, 

"  Sir,"  said  I,  "  or  Madam,  truly  your  forgiveness  I  implore ; 
But.  the  fact  is,  I  was  napping,  and  so  gently  you  came  rapping, 
And  so  faintly  you  came  tapping,  tapping  at  my  chamber  door, 
That  I  scarce  was  sure  I   heard  you."     Here  I  opened  wide 
the  door  ; 

Darkness  there,  and  nothing  more. 

Deep  into  that  darkness  peering,  long  I  stood  there,  wondering, 
fearing, 
Doubting,  dreaming  dreams  no  mortal   ever  dared  to  dream 
before ; 


THE  RAVEN.  309 

But  the  silence  was  unbroken,  and  the  darkness  gave  no  token, 
And  the  only  word  there  spoken  was  the  whispered  word, 

"  Lenore !  " 
This  I  whispered,  and  an  echo  murmured  back  the  word, 
"  Lenore ! " 

Merely  this,  and  nothing  more. 

Then  into  the  chamber  turning,  all  my  soul  within  me  burning 
Soon  I  heard  again  a  tapping,  somewhat  louder  than  before. 

"  Surely,"  said  I,  "  surely  that  is  something  at  my  window  lattice  ; 
Let  me  see,  then,  what  thereat  is,  and  this  mystery  explore ; 
Let  my  heart  be  still  a  moment,  and  this  mystery  explore ; 
'Tis  the  wind,  and  nothing  more  !  " 

Open  here  I  flung  the  shutter,  when,  with  many  a  flirt  and  flutter, 

In  there  stepped  a  stately  raven  of  the  saintly  days  of  yore  ; 
Not  the  least  obeisance  made  he,  not  an  instant  stopped  or  staia 
he, 
But,  with  mien  of  lord  or  lady,  perched  above  my  chamber 

door, 
Perched  upon  a  bust  of  Pallas  just  above  my  chamber  door ; 
Perched,  and  sat,  and  nothing  more. 

Then  this  ebon  bird  beguiling  my  sad  fancy  into  smiling, 

By  the  grave  and  stern  decorum  of  the  countenance  it  wore, 
"  Though  thy  crest  be  shorn  and    shaven,  thou,"  I  said,  "  art 
sure  no  craven. 
Crhastly,  grim,  and  ancient  raven,  wandering  from  the  nightly 

shore, 
Tell   me  what  thy  lordly  name  is  on  the  night's  Plutonian 
shore." 

Quoth  the  raven,  "  Nevermore." 

Much  I  marveled  this  ungainly  fowl  to  hear  discourse  so  plainly, 

Though  its  answer  little  meaning,  little  relevancy  bore  ; 
For  we  can  not  help  agreeing,  that  no  living  human  being 
Ever  yet  was  blest  with  seeing  bird  above  his  chamber  door. 
Bird  or  heast  upon  the  sculptured  bust  above  his  chambei 
door, 

With  such  name  as  "  Nevermore." 

But  the  raven,  sitting  lonely  on  the  placid  bust,  spoke  only 

That  one  word,  as  if  his  soul  in  that  one  word  he  did  outpour 
Nothing  further  then  he  uttered,  not  a  feather  then  he  fluttered, 

o 


310  ROSS'S   SPEAKER. 

Till  I  scarcely  more  than  muttered,  "Other  friends  have  flown 
before  ; 

On  the  morrow  lie  will  leave  me,  as  my  hopes  have  flown  be- 
fore." 

Then  the  bird  said,  "  Nevermore." 

Startled  at  the  stillness  broken  by  reply  so  aptly  spoken, 

"  Doubtless,"  said  1,  "  what  it  utters  is  its  only  stock  and  store, 

Caught  from  some  unhappy  master,  whom  unmerciful  disaster 
Followed  fast  and  followed  faster,  till  his  song  one  burden  bore. 
Till  the  dirges  of  his  hope  the  melancholy  burden  bore, 
Of  '  Nevermore,'  of  '  Nevermore.' " 

But  the  raven  still  beguiling  all  my  sad  soul  into  smiling, 

Straight  I  wheeled  a  cushioned  seat  in  front  of  bird,  and  bust, 
and  door ; 
r.7hen  upon  the  velvet  sinking,  I  betook  myself  to  linking 
Fancy  unto  fancy,  thinking  what  this  ominous  bird  of  yore, 
What  this  grim,  ungainly,  ghastly,  gaunt,  and  ominous  bird  of 
yore 

Meant  in  croaking  "  Nevermore." 

Thus  I  sat  engaged  in  guessing,  but  no  syllable  expressing 
To  the  fowl  whose  fiery  eyes  now  burned   into  my  bosom  s 
core  ; 
This  and  more  I  sat  divining,  with  my  head  at  ease  reclining 
On  the  cushion's  velvet  lining  that  the  lamp  light  gloated  o'er 
But  whose  velvet  violet  lining,  with  the  lamp  light  gloating  o'er, 
She  shall  press,  ah,  nevermore  ! 

Then  methought  the  air  grew  denser,  perfumed  from  an  unseen 
censer, 
Swung  by  angels  whose  faint  footfalls  tinkled  on  the  tufted 
floor. 
K  Wretch,"  1  cried,  "  thy  God  hath  len'  th*30,  by  these  angels  he 
hath  sent  thee, 
Respite,  respite  and  nepenthe  from  thy  memories  of  Lenore. 
Quaff,  O,  quaff  this  kind  nepenthe,  and  forget  this  lost  Lenor  j." 
Quoth  the  raven,  "  Nevermore." 

"  Prophet,"  said  I,"  thing  of  evil, —  prophet  still,  if  bird  or  devil, — 
Whether  tempter  sent,  or  whether  tempest  tossed  thee   here 
ashore, 
Desolate,  yet  all  undaunted,  on  this  desert  land  enchanted. 


STATE  INTERPOSITION.  31  i 

On  this  borne  by  horror  haunted,  —  tell  me  truly,  1  implor^ 
Is  there,  is  there  balm  in  Gilead;  tell  me,  tell  me,  I  implore.' 
Quoth  the  raven,  "  Nevermore." 

"  Prophet,"  said  I,  "thing  of  evil,  —  prophet  still,  if  bird  or  devil, — 

By  that  heaven  that  bends  above  us,  by  that  God  we  both  adore, 

Tell  this  soul,  with  sorrow  laden,  if  within  the  distant  Aiden 

It  shall  clasp  a  sainted  maiden,  whom  the  ange'.s  name  Lenore  ; 

Clasp  a   rare   and   radiant   maiden,  whom   the   angels   natnt 

Lenore." 

Quoth  the  raven,  "  Nevermore.'' 

"  Be  that  word  our  sign  of  parting,  bird  or  fiend  !  "  I  shrieked, 
upstarting  ; 
Get  thee  back  into  the  tempest  and  the  night's  Plutonian  shore. 
Leave   no  black   plume   as   a  token   of  that   lie   f.hy  soul   hath 
spoken  ; 
Leave  my  loneliness  unbroken  ;  quit  the  bu»i  above  my  door. 
Take  thy  beak  from  out  my  heart,  and  take  thy  form  from 
off  my  door." 

Quoth  the  raven,  "  Nevermore." 

And  the  raven,  never  flitting,  still   s  sitting,  still  is  sitting 

On  the  pallid  bust  of  Pallas  jus.  above  my  chamber  door; 
And  his  eyes  have  all  the  seeming  of  a  demon  that  is  dreaming  , 
And  the  lamp  light  o'er  him  streaming  throws  his  shadow  on 

the  floor  ; 
And  my  soul  from  out  that  si.adowthat  lies  floating  on  the  floor 
Shall  be  lifted  —  nevermore  ! 


Slate    Interpositicn.  —  J.  C.  Calhoun. 

Wk  have,  Mr.  President,  arrived  at  a  remarkable  era  in  oui 
political  history.  The  day,-!  of  legislative  and  executive  en- 
croach'iients,  of  tariffs  and  surpluses,  of  banks  and  public  debt, 
and  ey/'avagaiii  .sxpenditure,  are  pasl  for  the  present.  The 
govern.Yienl  stands  in  a  position  disentangled  from  ihc  past,  and 
freer  to  choose  its  future  course  than  it  ever  has  been  since  it" 
commencement.  VVe  are  aboul  to  take  a  fresh  start.  I  move 
off  under  the  state  rights  banner,  and  ;_r<>  in  the  direction  winch  1 
have  been  ■  ••  moving,  (seize  the  opportunity  thoroughly 
to  reform  the  govcrnmenl ;  to  bring  it  back  to  its  original  prin- 


312  ROSS'S    SPEAKER. 

ctples  ;  to  retrench  and  economize,  anl  rigidly  enforce  account' 
ability. 

I  shall  oppose,  strenuously,  all  attempts  to  originate  a  new 
debt ;  to  create  a  national  bank  ;  to  reunite  the  political  and 
money  powers  (more  dangerous  than  church  and  state)  in  any 
form  or  shape ;  to  prevent  the  disturbances  of  the  compromise, 
which  is  gradually  removing  the  last  vestiges  of  the  tariff  sys- 
tem ;  and,  mainly,  I  shall  use  my  best  efforts  to  give  an  ascend- 
ency to  the  great  conservative  principle  of  state  sovereignty  over 
the  dangerous  and  despotic  doctrine  of  consolidation. 

I  rejoice  to  think  that  the  executive  department  of  the  govern- 
ment is  now  so  reduced  in  power  and  means  that  it  can  no 
longer  rely  on  its  influence  and  patronage  to  secure  a  majority. 
Henceforward  it  can  have  no  hope  of  supporting  itself  but  on 
wisdom,  moderation,  patriotism,  and  devoted  attachment  to  the 
constitution,  which  I  trust  will  make  it,  in  its  own  defense,  an 
ally  in  effecting  the  reform  which  I  deem  indispensable  to  the 
salvation  of  the  country  and  its  institutions. 

I  look,  sir,  with  pride  to  the  wise  and  noble  bearing  of  the 
little  state  rights  party,  of  which  it  is  my  pride  to  have  been  a 
member,  throughout  the  eventful  period  through  which  the  coun- 
try has  passed  since  1824.  Experience  already  bears  testimony 
to  their  patriotism,  firmness,  and  sagacity,  and  history  will  do  it 
justice.  In  that  year,  as  I  have  stated,  the  tariff  system  tri- 
umphed in  the  councils  of  the  nation. 

We  saw  its  disastrous  political  bearings  ;  foresaw  its  surpluses 
and  the  extravagances  to  which  it  would  lead.  We  rallied  on 
the  election  of  the  late  president  to  arrest  it  through  the  influence 
of  the  executive  department  of  the  government.  In  this  we 
failed.  We  then  fell  back  upon  the  rights  and  sovereignty  of 
the  states  ;  and  by  the  action  of  a  small  but  gallant  state,  and 
through  the  potency  of  its  interposition,  we  brought  the  system 
to  the  ground,  sustained,  as  it  was,  by  the  opposition,  and  the 
administration,  and  by  the  whole  power  and  patronage  of  the 
government. 

The  pernicious  overflow  of  the  treasury,  of  which  it  was  the 
parent,  could  not  be  arrested  at  once.  The  surplus  was  seized 
on  by  the  executive,  and,  by  its  control  over  the  banks,  became 
the  fruitful  source  of  executive  influence  and  encroachment. 
Without  hesitation  we  joined  our  old  opponents  on  the  tariff 
question,  but  under  our  own  flag,  without  merging  in  their  ranks, 
and  made  a  gallant  and  successful  war  against  the  encroach- 
ments of  the  executive. 

That  terminated,  we  part  with  our  late  allies  in  peace,  and 


ADDRESS  TO  THE  TEXIAX   ABMl.  313 

move  forward,  lag  or  onward  who  may,  to  secure  the  fruits  o** 
our  long  but  successful  struggle,  under  the  old  republican  flag 
of  '98,  which,  though  tattered  and  torn,  has  never  yet  been 
lowered,  and,  with  the  blessing  of  God,  never  shall  be  with  my 
consent. 


Address  to  the  Soldiers  on  assuming  the  Command 
of  the  Texian  Army.  —  m.  b.  Lamar. 

Soldiees,  your  country  calls  you  to  her  defense  !  Your 
homes,  your  firesides,  the  scenes  of  former  joys  and  of  coming 
glory,  all  the  endearments  of  domestic  happiness,  and  all  the 
hopes  of  future  competence  and  peace,  summon  you  to  the  field. 
You  are  summoned  too  by  the  spirits  of  Fannin  and  Travis, 
and  their  gallant  companions,  whose  blood  has  cemented  the 
foundations  of  our  freedom.  Their  flesh  has  been  food  for 
the  raven,  and  their  bones  have  whitened  on  the  prairies  unre- 
venged. 

Your  pious  patriotism  has  gathered  those  scattered  relics  with 
decent  sepulchral  honors  to  a  soldier's  grave  ;  but  their  glorified 
spirits,  still  hovering  around  the  home  of  their  patriotic  devotion, 
call  upon  you  to  sustain  the  independence  which  they  have  con- 
secrated by  martyrdom,  and  to  recompense  with  merited  ven- 
geance the  wrongs  which  they  have  endured  from  a  perfidious 
and  dastard  enemy.  Shall  the  call  be  made  in  vain  ?  Shall  we 
turn  a  deaf  ear  to  the  voice  of  our  country  and  the  beseeching 
cries  of  our  murdered  brethren  ?  Surely  there  can  be  no  one 
so  insensible  to  guilt  and  shame  as  to  look  with  indifference 
upon  the  slaughter  of  his  people  and  the  desolation  of  his 
country. 

If  there  be  so  foul  a  blot  upon  humanity  —  if  there  be  one  in 
the  whole  limits  of  our  land  who  is  mean  enough,  when  his 
home  is  invaded  by  an  insolent  foe,  to  seek  safety  in  dishonor- 
able flight  —  I  would  say  to  him,  "  Detested  recreant !  retire  to 
the  shades  of  infamy,  and  sully  no  more  a  beautiful  land,  whose 
blessings  belong  to  the  brave  and  victorious.1'  Let,  then,  every 
patriot  soldier  —  every  worthy  citizen  who  abhors  the  name  of 
traitor,  and  contemns  the  vile  epithet  of  coward  —  rally  to  the 
call  promptly  around  the  unfurled  banner  of  freedom.  Let  him 
repair  with  impatient  zeal  to  the  theater  of  his  nation's  glory, 
and  there  snatch,  upon  the  brink  of  danger,  fame  for  himself 
&w\  safety  for  his  rights. 

The  dastard  who  lingers  behln '   may  live  to  fatten  upon  the 


3i4  ROSS'S   SPEAKER. 

fi  nits  of  his  recreancy,  but  when  he  dies  he  rots  in  infamy  lo 
the  jov  of  all  ;  whilst  the  noble  hero  who  makes  his  breast  the 
bulwark  of  a  people's  liberty,  will  find  a  rich  reward  for  toil  and 
valor  in  the  pride  of  conscious  virtue  and  the  smiles  of  a  grate- 
ful nation.  If  he  fall  in  the  holy  cause,  he  will  still  survive  in 
the  affections  of  his  comrades,  and  his  name  will  gather  glory 
with  the  flight  of  ages. 

"  Each  little  rill,  each  mountain  river, 
Rolls  mingling  with  his  fame  forever." 


Enthusiasm.  —William  Pincxwky. 

The  vanity  of  human  wisdom  and  the  presumption  of  human 
reason  are  proverbial.  This  vanity  and  this  presumption  are 
often  neither  reasonable  nor  wise.  Humanity,  too,  sometime 
plays  fantastic  tricks  with  power.  Time,  moreover,  is  fruitful  in 
temptations  to  convert  discretionary  power  to  all  sorts  of  pur- 
poses. 

Time,  that  withers  the  strength  of  man,  and  "  strews  around 
him,  like  autumnal  leaves,  the  ruins  of  his  proudest  monuments," 
produces  great  vicissitudes  in  modes  of  thinking  and  feeling.  It 
brings  along  with  it,  in  its  progress,  new  circumstances  ;  new 
combinations  and  modifications  of  the  old  ;  generating  new  views, 
motives,  and  caprices,  new  fanaticisms  of  endless  variety  ;  in 
short,  new  every  thing.  Wo  ourselves  are  always  changing ; 
and  what  to-day  we  have  but  a  small  desire  to  attempt,  to-morrow 
becomes  the  object  of  our  passionate  aspirations. 

There  is  such  a  thing  as  enthusiasm,  moral,  religious,  or  po- 
litical, or  a  compound  of  all  three  ;  and  it  is  wonderful  what  it 
w'll  attempt,  and  from  what  imperceptible  beginnings  it  some- 
t'mes  rises  into  a  mighty  agent.  Rising  from  some  obscure  or 
unknown  source,  it  first  shows  itself  a  petty  rivulet,  which 
scarcely  murmurs  over  the  pebbles  that  obstruct  its  way  ;  then 
it  swells  into  a  fierce  torrent,  bearing  all  before  it ;  and  then 
aga'n,  like  some  mountain  stream  which  occasional  rains  have 
precipitated  upon  the  valley,  it  sinks  once  more  into  a  rivulet, 
and  finally  leaves  its  channel  dry. 

Such  a  thing  has  happened.  I  do  not  say  that  it  is  now  hap- 
pening. It  would  not  become  me  to  say  so.  But  if  it  should 
occurt  woe  to  the  unlucky  territory  that  should  be  struggling  to 
make  its  way  into  the  Union  at  the  moment  when  the  opposing 
inundation   was  at  its  hight,  and  at  the  jarae  instant  tl  is  wide 


BE  FAITHFUL  TO   YOUR   COUNTRY.  315 

Mediterranean  of  discretionary  powers,  which,  it  seems,  is  ours, 
should  open  up  all  its  sluices,  and,  with  a  consentaneous  rush, 
mingle  with  the  turbid  waters  of  the  others  ! 


Be  faithful  to  your  Country.  —  e.  Everett. 

When  the  old  world  afforded  no  longer  any  hope,  it  pleased 
Heaven  to  open  this  last  refuge  :>f  humanity.  The  attempt  has 
begun,  and  is  going  on,  from  foreign  corruption,  on  the  broadest 
scale,  and  under  the  most  benignant  auspices  ;  and  it  certainly 
rests  with  us  to  solve  the  great  problem  in  human  society  —  to 
settle,  and  that  forever,  the  momentous  question  —  whether  man- 
kind can  be  trusted  with  a  purely  popular  system. 

One  might  almost  think,  without  extravagance,  that  the  de- 
parted wise  and  good  of  all  places  and  times  are  looking  down 
from  their  happy  seats  to  witness  what  shall  now  be  done  by  us; 
that  they  who  lavished  their  treasures  and  their  blood  of  old, 
who  labor  id  and  suffered,  who  spoke  and  wrote,  who  fought  and 
perished,  in  the  one  great  cause  of  freedom  and  truth,  are  now 
hanging,  from  their  orbs  on  high,  over  the  last  solemn  experi- 
ment of  humanity. 

As  l  have  wandered  over  the  spots  once  the  scene  of  theii 
labors,  and  rrused  among  the  prostrate  columns  of  their  senate 
houses  and  forums,  I  have  seemed  almost  to  hear  a  voice  from 
the  tombs  of  depa/ted  ages — from  the  sepulchers  of  the  nations 
which  died  before  the  sight.  They  exhort  u:;,  they  adjure  us,  to 
be  faithful  to  our  trusts  ;  they  implore  us,  by  the  long  trials  of 
struggling  humanity  —  by  the  blessed  memory  of  the  departed  — 
by  the  dear  faith  which  hr.s  !;een  plighted  ]  y  pure  hands  to  the 
holy  cause  of  truth  and  man  —  by  the  awful  secrets  of  the 
piison  houses  where  the  sons  of  freedom  have  b.en  immured  — 
by  the  noble  heads  which  have  been  brought  to  the  block  —  by 
the  wrecks  of  time  —  by  the  eloquent  ruins  of  nations,  —  they 
conjure  us  not  to  quench  the  light  which  is  rising  on  the  world. 
Greece  cries  to  us  by  the  convulsed  lips  of  her  poisoned,  dying 
Demosthenes  ;  and  Rome  pleads  with  us  in  the  mute  persuasions 
of  her  mangled  Tully. 

Yes,  such  is  the  exhortation  which  call?  on  us  to  exerl  oui 

powers,  to  employ  our  time,  and  consecrate  our  labors,  in  the 

ir    native   land.     When  we  engage  in   that  solemn 

Study,  the  history  of  our  race  —  when  we  survey  th     progress 

of  man  from  his  cradle  in  the  East  to  these  last  limit?  of  his 


316  ROSS'S   SPEAKER. 

wandering  —  when  we  behold  him  forever  flying  westward 
from  civil  and  religious  thralldom,  bearing  his  household  gods 
over  mountains  and  seas,  seeking  rest  and  finding  none,  but  still 
pursuing  the  flying  bow  of  promise  to  the  glittering  hills  which 
it  spans  in  Hesperian  climes,  we  can  not  but  exclaim  with  Bishop 
Berkeley,  the  generous  prelate  of  England,  who  bestowed  his 
benefactions,  as  well  as  blessings,  on  our  country,— 

*«  Westward  the  star  of  empire  takes  its  way ; 
The  four  first  acts  already  past, 
The  fifth  shall  close  the  drama  with  the  day : 
Time's  noblest  offspring  is  the  last." 


Washington's  Sword  and  Franklin's  Staff. 

John  Quinct  Adams. 

[In  the  United  States  House  of  Representatives,  on  reception  of  these 

memorials  by  Congress.] 

The  sword  of  Washington  !  The  staff*  of  Franklin !  O,  sir, 
what  associations  are  linked  in  adamant  with  these  names ! 
Washington,  whose  sword  was  never  drawn  but  in  the  cause  of 
his  country,  and  never  sheathed  when  wielded  in  his  country's 
cause !  Franklin,  the  philosopher  of  the  thunderbolt,  the  printing 
press,  and  the  ploughshare  !  —  What  names  are  these  in  the  scanty 
catalogue  of  the  benefactors  of  human  kind  !  Washington  and 
Franklin !  What  other  two  men,  whose  lives  belong  to  the 
eighteenth  century  of  Christendom,  have  left  a  deeper  impression 
of  themselves  upon  the  age  in  which  they  lived,  and  upon  all 
after  time  ? 

Washington,  the  warrior  and  the  legislator  ;  in  war,  contending, 
by  the  wager  of  battle,  for  the  independence  of  his  country,  and 
for  the  freedom  of  the  human  race,  —  ever  manifesting,  amidst 
its  horrors,  by  precept  and  by  example,  his  reverence  for  the 
laws  of  peace,  and  for  the  tenderest  sympathies  of  humanity ; 
in  peace,  soothing  the  ferocious  spirit  of  discord,  among  his  own 
countrymen,  into  harmony  and  union,  and  giving  to  that  very 
sword,  now  presented  to  his  country,  a  charm  more  potent  than 
that  attributed,  in  ancient  times,  to  the  lyre  of  Orpheus. 

Franklin,  the  mechanic  of  his  own  fortune ;  teaching,  in 
early  youth,  under  the  shackles  of  indigence,  the  way  to  wealth, 
and,  in  the  shade  of  obscurity,  the  path  to  greatness;  in  the 
maturity  of  manhood,  disarming  the  thunder  of  its  terrors,  the 
lightning  of  its  fatal  blast ;  and  wresting  from  the  tyrant's  hand 


THE   SWORD    OF    GENERAI    JACKSON.  3(? 

the  still  more  afflictive  scepter  of  oppression ;  while  descending 
into  the  vale  of  years,  traversing  the  Atlantic  Ocean,  braving, 
in  the  dead  of  winter,  the  battle  and  the  breeze,  bearing  in  his 
hand  the  charter  of  independence,  which  he  had  contributed  to 
form,  and  tendering,  from  the  self-created  nation  to  the  mighti- 
est monarchs  of  Europe,  the  olive  branch  of  peace,  the  mercurial 
wand  of  commerce,  and  the  amulet  of  protection  and  safety  to 
the  man  of  peace,  on  the  pathless  ocean,  from  the  inexorable 
cruelty  and  merciless  rapacity  of  war. 

And,  finally,  in  the  last  stage  of  life,  with  fourscore  winters 
upon  his  head,  under  the  torture  of  an  incurable  disease,  return- 
ing to  his  native  land,  closing  his  days  as  the  chief  magistrate  of 
his  adopted  commonwealth,  after  contributing  by  his  counsels, 
under  the  presidency  of  Washington,  and  recording  his  name, 
under  the  sanction  of  devout  prayer,  invoked  by  him  to  God,  to 
that  constitution  under  the  authority  of  which  we  are  here 
assembled,  as  the  representatives  of  the  North  American  peo- 
ple, to  receive,  in  their  name  and  for  them,  these  venerable 
reliis  of  the  wise,  the  valiant,  and  the  good  founders  of  our  great 
confederated  republic,  these  sacred  symbols  of  our  golden 
age.  May  they  be  deposited  among  the  archives  of  our  gov- 
ernment !  And  may  every  American,  who  shall  hereafter  be- 
hold  them,  ejaculate  a  mingled  offering  of  praise  to  that  Supreme 
Ruler  of  the  universe,  by  whose  tender  mercies  our  Union  has 
been  hitherto  preserved,  through  all  the  vicissitudes  and  revolu- 
tions of  this  turbulent  world,  and  of  prayer  for  the  continuance 
of  these  blessings,  by  the  dispensations  of  Providence,  to  our 
beloved  country,  from  age  to  age,  till  time  shall  be  no  more  ! 


The  Sword  of  General  Jackson.  — Cass, 

[The  sword  being  placed  on  Mr.  Case's  desk,  he  rose,  and  raising  the 
sword,  made  the  following  eloquent  speech  :  — ] 

Mk.  Pbesident,  I  must  ask  the  indulgence  of  the  Senate  for 
requesting  that  its  usual  business  may  be  suspended  to  give  me 
■  in  opportunity  to  discharge  ;i  trust  which  has  been  committal  to 
me  —  a  trust  I  bad  doI  the  heart  to  decline,  but  which  I  knew  I 
had  not  the  power  to  fulfill  as  sucha  mission  should  be  fulfilled. 
hold  in  my  hand  the  Bword  of  General  Jackson,  which  he  wore 
in  all  his  expeditions,  while  in  the  military  service  of  the  coun- 
try, and  which  was  his  faithful  companion  in  his  last  and  crowning 
victory,  when  New  Orleans  was  saved  from  the  grasp  of  a  rapa- 

u  ,; 


31S  ROSS'S   SPEAKER, 

cioMS  and  powerful  enemy,  and  our  nation  from  the  disgrace  and 
disaster  which  defeat  would  have  brought  in  its  train.  When 
the  hand  of  death  was  upon  him,  General  Jackson  presented  this 
sword  to  his  friend,  the  late  General  Armstrong,  as  a  testimonial 
of  his  high  appreciation  of  the  services,  worth,  and  courage  of 
that  most  estimable  citizen  and  distinguished  soldier,  whose  des- 
perate  valor  on  one  occasion  stayed  the  tide  of  Indian  success 
and  saved  the  army  from  destruction.  The  family  of  that  la- 
mented depositary,  now  that  death  has  released  him  from  the 
guardianship  of  this  treasure  of  patriotism,  are  desirous  it  should 
be  surrendered  to  the  custody  of  the  national  legislature,  be- 
lieving that  to  be  the  proper  disposition  of  a  memorial  which,  in 
all  time  to  come,  will  be  a  cherished  one  for  the  American  peo- 
ple. To  carry  that  purpose  into  effect,  I  now  offer  it  in  their 
name  to  Congress. 

Mr.  President,  this  is  no  doubtful  relic,  whose  identity  depends 
upon  uncertain  tradition,  and  which  owes  its  interest  to  an  im- 
pulsive imagination.  Its  authenticity  is  established  beyond  con- 
troversy by  the  papers  which  accompany  it,  and  it  derives  its 
value  as  well  from  our  knowledge  of  its  history  as  from  its  as- 
sociation with  the  great  captain  whose  days  of  toil  and  nights  of 
trouble  it  shared  and  witnessed,  and  who  never  drew  it  from  its 
scabbard  but  to  defend  the  honor  and  the  interests  of  his  country. 
This  is  neither  the  time  nor  the  place  to  portray  those  great 
traits  of  character  which  gave  to  General  Jackson  the  ascenden- 
cy that  no  man  ever  denied  who  approached  him,  and  that  won- 
derful influence  with  his  countrymen  which  marked  almost  his 
whole  course  from  his  entrance  upon  a  public  career  till  the 
grave  closed  upon  his  life  and  his  labors,  and  left  him  to  that 
equality  which  the  mighty  and  the  lowly  must  find  at  last.  Still, 
from  my  personal  and  official  relations  with  him,  and,  I  trust,  I 
may  add,  from  his  friendship  toward  me,  of  which  I  had  many 
proofs,  I  can  not  withhold  the  acknowledgment  of  the  impression 
which  his  high  qualities  made  upon  me,  and  which  becomes 
more  lasting  and  profound  as  time  is  doing  its  work  of  separa 
tion  from  the  days  of  my  intercourse  with  him. 

I  have  been  no  careless  observer  of  the  men  of  my  time,  who, 
controlled  by  events,  or  controlling  them,  have  stood  prominent 
among  them,  and  will  occupy  distinguished  positions  in  the  annals 
of  the  age  ;  and  circumstances  have  attended  my  opportunities 
of  examination  to  the  old  world,  as  well  as  to  the  new.  But  I 
say,  and  with  a  deep  conviction  of  its  truth,  that  I  never  have 
been  brought  into  contact,  with  a  man  who  possessed  more 
native  sagacity,  more  profundity  of  intellect,  higher  powers  of 


UNION   LINKED   WITH  LIBERTY.  3]q 

observation,  or  greater  probity  of  purpose,  more  urdtir  of 
patriotism,  nor  more  firmness  of  resolution  after  ho  had  sur- 
veyed his  position  and  occupied  it,  than  the  lamented  subject 
of  this  feeble  tribute,  not  to  him,  but  to  truth.  And  I  will  add 
that  during  the  process  of  determination  upon  important  subjects, 
he  was  sometimes  slow,  and  generally  cautious  and  inquiring,  and, 
he  has  more  than  once  told  me,  anxious  and  uneasy,  not  seldom 
passing  the  night  without  sleep ;  but  he  was  calm  in  his  mind 
and  inflexible  in  his  will,  when  reflection  had  given  place  to 
decision.  The  prevailing  opinion  that  he  was  rash  and  hasty  in 
his  conclusions  is  founded  upon  an  erroneous  impress:on  of  his 
habits  of  thought  and  action  —  upon  a  want  of  discrimination 
between  his  conduct  before  and  after  his  judgment  had  pro- 
nounced upon  his  course. 


Union   linked  with   Liberty.  —  Andrew  Jackson, 
(Born  1767,  died  1845.) 

Without  union  our  independence  and  liberty  would  never 
nave  been  achieved  ;  without  union  they  can  never  be  main- 
tained. Divided  into  twenty-four,  or  even  a  smaller  number  of 
separate  communities,  we  shall  see  our  in'.crnal  trade  burdened 
with  numberless  restraints  and  exactions  ;  communication  be- 
tween distant  points  and  sections  obstructed  or  cut  off;  our  sons 
made  soldiers,  to  deluge  with  blood  the  fields  they  now  till  in 
peace ;  the  mass  of  our  people  borne  down  and  impoverished  by 
taxes  to  support  armies  and  navies;  and  military  leaders,  at  the 
head  of  their  victorious  legions,  becoming  our  lawgivers  and 
judges.  The  loss  of  liberty,  of  all  good  government,  of  peace, 
plenty,  and  happiness,  must  inevitably  follow  a  dissolution  of  the 
Union.  In  supporting  it,  therefore,  we  support  all  that  is  dear  to 
the  freeman  and  the  philanthropist. 

The  time  at  which  I  stand  before  you  is  full  of  interest.  The 
eyes  of  all  nations  are  fixed  on  our  republic.  The  event  of  the 
existing  crisis  will  be  decisive,  in  the  opinion  of  mankind,  of  the 
practicability  of  our  federal  system  of  government.  Great  is  the 
stake  placed  in  our  hands ;  great  is  the  responsibility  which 
must  rest  upon  the  people  of  th;  United  States.  Let  us  realize 
the  importance  of  the  attitude  in  which  we  stand  before  the 
world.  Let  ik  exercise  forbearance  and  firmness.  Let  us  ex- 
tricate our  country  from  the  dangers  which  surround  it,  and 
\earn  wisdom  from  the  lessons  they  inculcate.     Deeply  impressed 


320  ROSS'S  SPEAKER. 

with  the  truth  of  these  observations,  and  under  the  obligation 
of  that  solemn  oath  which  I  am  about  to  take,  I  shall  continue  to 
exert  all  my  faculties  to  maintain  the  just  powers  of  the  consti- 
tution, and  to  transmit  unimpaired  to  posterity  the  blessings  of 
our  federal  Union. 

At  the  same  time  it  will  be  my  aim  to  inculcate,  by  my  official 
acts,  the  necessity  of  exercising,  by  the  general  government, 
those  powers  only  that  are  clearly  delegated  ;  to  encourage  sim- 
plicity and  economy  in  the  expenditures  of  the  government ;  to 
raise  no  more  money  from  the  people  than  may  be  requisite  for 
these  objects,  and  in  a  manner  that  will  best  promote  the  inter- 
ests of  all  classes  of  the  community,  and  of  all  portions  of  the 
Union.  Constantly  bearing  in  mind  that,  in  entering  into  society, 
"  individuals  must  give  up  a  share  of  liberty  to  preserve  the 
rest,"  it  will  be  my  desire  so  to  discharge  my  duties  as  to  foster 
with  our  brethren,  in  all  parts  of  the  country,  a  spirit  of  liberal 
concession  and  compromise,  and,  by  reconciling  our  fellow- 
citizens  to  those  partial  sacrifices  which  they  must  unavoidably 
make  for  the  preservation  of  a  greater  good,  to  recommend  our 
invaluable  government  and  Union  to  the  confidence  and  affec- 
tions of  the  American  people.  Finally,  it  is  my  most  fervent 
prayer  to  that  Almighty  Being  before  whom  I  now  stand,  and 
who  has  kept  us  in  his  hands  from  the  infancy  of  our  republic 
to  the  present  day,  that  he  will  so  overrule  all  my  intentions  ana 
actions,  and  inspire  the  hearts  of  my  fellow-citizens,  that  we 
may  be  preserved  from  dangers  of  all  kinds,  and  continue  for- 
ever a  united  and  happy  people. 


Scene  from   Catiline.  —  Croly. 

The  Senate.  —  Lictors  ;  the  Consul  ;  Cicero  speaking. 

Cic.     Our  long  dispute  must  close.     Take  one  proof  more 
Of  this  rebellion.  —  Lucius  Catiline 
Has  been  commanded  to  attend  the  Senate. 
He  dares  not  come.     I  now  demand  your  votes. 
Is  he  condemned  to  exile  ? 

(Catiline  comes  in  hastily,  andjlings  himself  on  the  bench  ; 
all  the  senators  go  over  to  the  other  side.) 

Cic.     (Turning  to   Catiline.)     Here  I  repeat  the  charge,  to 
gods  and  men, 
Of  treasons  manifold  —  that,  but  this  dav. 


SCENE   FROM   CATILINE.  82 1 

He  has  received  despatches  from  the  rebels ; 
That  he  has  leagued  with  deputies  from  Gaul 
To  seize  the  province  ;  nay,  has  levied  troops, 
And  raised  his  rebel  standard  ;  that  but  now 
A  meeting  of  conspirators  was  held 
Under  his  roof,  with  mystic  rites,  and  oaths, 
Pledged  round  the  body  of  a  murdered  slave. 
To  these  he  has  no  answer. 

Cat.     {Rising  calmly.)     Conscript  fathers  : 
I  do  not  rise  to  waste  the  night  in  words ; 
Let  that  plebeian  talk  ;  'tis  not  my  trade  ; 
But  here  I  stand  for  right  —  let  him  show  proofs  — 
For  Roman  right ;  though  none,  it  seems,  dare  stand 
To  take  their  share  with  me.     Ay,  cluster  there, 
Cling  to  your  master;  judges,  Romans  —  slaves! 
His  charge  is  false  ;  I  dare  him  to  his  proofs. 
You  have  my  answer.     Let  my  actions  speak. 

Cic.       Interrupting  him.)     Deeds  shall  convince  you!     Has 
the  traitor  done  ? 

Cat.     But  this  I  will  avow,  that  I  have  scorned, 
And  still  do  scorn,  to  hide  my  sense  of  wrong  ; 
Who  brands  me  on  the  forehead,  breaks  my  sword, 
Or  lays  the  bloody  scourge  upon  my  back, 
Wrongs  me  not  half  so  much  as  he  who  shuts 
The  gates  of  honor  on  me,  turning  out 
The  Roman  from  his  birthright ;  and  for  what !    {Looking  round 

him.) 
To  fling  your  offices  to  every  slave ; 
Vipers  that  creep  where  man  disdains  to  climb ; 
And  having  wound  their  loathsome  track  to  the  top 

his  huge  moldering  monument  of  Rome, 
Hang  hissing  at  the  nobler  man  below. 

Cic.     This  is  his  answer  !     Must  I  bring  more  proofs  ? 
Fathers,  you  know  there  lives  not  one  of  us 
But  lives  in  peril  of  his  midnight  sword. 
Lists  of  proscription  have  been  handed  round, 
In  which  your  general  properties  are  made 
Your  murderer's  hire. 

{A  cry  is  heard  without  —  "  More  prisoners  !  "  An  offi- 
cer enters  with  letters  for  Cicero  ;  who,  after  glancing 
at  them,  sends  them  round  the  Senate.  Catiline  M 
strongly  perturbed.) 

fathers  of  Rome  '     II  man  <"tn  be  convinced 

•n 


322  ROSS'S   SPEAKER. 

By  proof  as  clear  as  daylight,  here  it  is ! 
Look  on  these  letters!      Hero's  a  deep-laid  plot 
To  wreck  the  provinces  ;  a  solemn  league, 
Made  wiln  all  form  and  circumstance.     The  time 
Is  desperate  —  all  the  slaves  are  up —  Rome  shakes  ! 
The  heavens  alone  can  tell  how  near  our  graves 
We  stand  even  here  !  — The  name  of  Catiline 
Is  foremost  in  the  league.     He  was  their  king. 
Tried  and  convicted  traitor  !  go  from  Rome  ! 

Cat.     {Haughtily  rising.)      Come,  consecrated  lictors,  from 
your  thrones  ;  (To  the  Senate.) 
Fling  down  your  scepters ;  take  the  rod  and  ax, 
And  make  the  murder  as  you  make  the  law. 

Cic.     (Interrupting  him.)     Give  up  the  record  of  his  banish- 
ment.    ( To  an  officer.) 

(The  officer  gives  it  to  the  Consul.) 

Cat.     (Indignantly.)     Banished  from  Rome!     What's  ban- 
ished, but  set  free 
From  daily  contact  of  the  things  I  loathe  ? 
"  Tried  and  convicted  traitor  !  "     Who  says  this  ? 
Who'll  prove  it,  at  his  peril,  on  my  head? 
Banished  —  I  thank  you  for  it.     It  breaks  my  chain! 
I  held  some  slack  allegiance  till  this  hour  ; 
But  now  my  sword's  my  own.     Smile  on,  my  lords  ! 
I  scorn  to  count  what  feelings,  withered  hopes, 
Strong  provocations,  bitter,  burning  wrongs, 
I  have  within  my  heart's  hot  cells  shut  up, 
To  leave  you  in  your  lazy  dignities. 
But  here  I  stand  and  scoff  you  ;  here  I  fling 
Hatred  and  full  defiance  in  your  face. 
Your  consul's  merciful.     For  this,  all  thanks. 
He  dares  not  touch  a  hair  of  Catiline. 

(The  Consul  reads:  —  "Lucius  Sergius  Catiline,  by 
the  decree  of  the  Senate,  you  are  declared  an  enemy 
and  alien  to  the  state  and  banished  from  the  territory 
of  the  commonwealth. ") 

The  Consul.     Lictors,  drive  the  traitor  from  the  temple  ! 

Cat.     (Furious.)     "  Traitor  !  "  I  go  —  but  I  return.     This  — 
trial ! 
Here  I  devote  yxir  Senate  !     I've  had  wrongs 
Tc  ?>:•!•  a  fever  in  the  blood  of  age, 
Or  make  the  infant's  sinews  strong  as  steel. 
This  day's  the  birth  of  sorrows  !  —  this  hour's  work 


WE   ARE   SEVEN.  323 

Will  breed  proscriptions  :  —  look  to  your  hearths,  my  lords ! 
For  there,  henceforth  shall  sit,  for  household  gods, 
Shapes  hot  from  Tartarus  !  —  all  shames  and  crimes ! 
Wan  Treachery,  with  his  thirsty  dagger  drawn ; 
Suspicion,  poisoning  his  brother's  cup  ; 
Naked  Rebellion,  with  the  torch  and  ax, 
Making  his  wild  sport  of  your  blazing  thrones  ; 
Till  Anarchy  comes  down  on  you  like  night, 
And  Massacre  seals  Rome's  eternal  grave  ! 

( The  senators  rise  in  tumult  and  cry  out,) 

Go,  enemy  and  parricide,  from  Rome  ! 

Cic.     Expel  him,  lictors  !     Clear  the  Senate  house  ! 

{They  surround  him.) 
Cat.     (Struggling  through  them.)     I  go,  but  not  to  leap  the 
gulf  alone. 
I  go  —  but  when  I  come,  'twill  be  the  burst 
Of  ocean  in  the  earthquake  —  rolling  back 
In  swift  and  mountainous  ruin.     Fare  you  well ! 
You  build  my  funeral  pile,  but  your  best  blood 
Shall  quench  its  flame.   Back,  slaves !    ( To  the  lictors.)  —  I  will 
return. 

(He  rushes  out ;  the  scene  closes.) 


We  are  Seven.—  Wounwom. 

I  met  a  little  cottage  girl ; 

She  was  eight  years  old,  she  said ; 
Her  hair  was  thick,  with  many  a  curl, 

That  clustered  round  her  head. 

She  had  a  rustic,  woodland  air, 

And  she  was  wildly  clad  ; 
Her  eyes  were  fair,  and  very  fair ; 

Her  beauty  made  me  glad. 

"  Sisters  and  brothers,  little  maid, 
How  many  may  you  be  ?  " 

M  How  many  ?  seven,  in  all,"  she  said, 
And  wondering,  looked  at  me. 


834  ROSS'S   SPEAKER. 

11  And  where  are  they  ?  I  pray  you  tell.** 
She  answered,  "  Seven  are  we ; 

And  two  of  us  in  Conway  dwell, 
And  two  are  gone  to  sea. 

"  Two  of  us  in  the  churchyard  lie, 

My  sister  and  my  brother  ; 
And  in  the  churchyard  cottage  I 

Dwell  near  them,  with  my  mother  * 

'*  You  say  that  two  at  Conway  dwell, 

And  two  are  gone  to  sea, 
Yet  ye  are  seven  ;  I  pray  you  tell, 

Sweet  maid,  how  this  may  be  ?  " 

Then  did  the  little  maid  reply, 
"  Seven  boys  and  girls  are  we  ; 

Two  of  us  in  the  churchyard  lie  ; 
Beneath  the  churchyard  tree." 

"  You  run  about,  my  little  maid ; 

Your  limbs,  they  are  alive  ; 
If  two  are  in  the  churchyard  laid, 

Then  ye  are  only  five." 

u  Their  graves  are  green  ;  they  may  be  aeon 

The  little  maid  replied, 
"  Twelve  steps  or  more  from  mother's  door, 

And  they  are  side  by  side. 

"  My  stockings  there  I  often  knit, 

My  'kerchief  there  I  hem  ; 
And  there  upon  the  ground  I  sit , 

I  sit  and  sing  to  them. 

"  And  often  after  sunset,  sir, 

When  it  is  light  and  fair, 
I  take  my  little  porringer, 

And  eat  my  supper  there. 

"  The  first  that  died  was  little  Jane 

In  bed  she  moaning  lay, 
Till  God  released  her  from  her  pain, 

And  then  she  went  away. 


CONSTITUTION   OF  THE  UNITED  STATES.  325 

"  So  in  the  churchyard  she  was  laid  ; 

And  all  the  summer  dry, 
Together  round  her  grave  we  played, 

My  hrother  John  and  I. 

44  And  when  the  ground  was  white  with  snow, 

And  I  could  run  and  slide, 
My  brother  John  was  forced  to  go, 

And  he  lies  by  her  side." 

M  How  many  are  you  then,"  said  I, 

"  If  they  two  are  in  heaven  ?  " 
The  little  maiden  did  reply, 

14  0  master,  we  are  seven." 

"  But  they  are  dead  ;  those  two  are  dead ; 

Their  spirits  are  in  heaven ; " 
'Twas  throwing  words  away ;  for  still 
The  little  maid  would  have  her  will, 

And  said,  "  Nay,  we  are  seven." 


Constitution  of  the    United  States. 

Alexander  Hamilton. 

After  all  our  doubts,  our  suspicions,  and  speculations,  on  the 
subject  of  government,  we  must  return,  at  last,  to  this  important 
truth  —  that,  when  we  have  formed  a  constitution  upon  free 
principles,  when  we  have  given  a  proper  balance  to  the  different 
branches  of  administration,  and  fixed  representation  upon  pure 
and  equal  principles,  we  may,  with  safety,  furnish  it  with  all  the 
powers  necessary  to  answer,  in  the  most  ample  manner,  the  pur- 
poses of  government.  The  great  desiderata  are  a  free  repre- 
sentation and  mutual  checks.  When  these  are  obtained,  all  our 
apprehensions  of  the  extent  of  powers  are  unjust  and  imaginary. 
What,  then,  is  the  structure  of  this  constitution  ?  One  branch 
of  the  legislature  is  to  be  elected  by  the  people  —  by  the  same 
people  who  choose  your  state  represenVitives.  Its  members 
are  to  hold  their  office  two  years,  and  \\tan  return  to  their  con- 
stituents. He-re,  sir,  the  people  govern.  Here  they  act  by  their 
'ounediate  representatives.  You  have  also  a  Senate,  constituted 
by  your  state  legislatures,  —  by  men  in  whom  you  place  the 
Highest  confidence,  —  and  forming  another  representative  brancn 


326  ROSS'S   SPEAKER. 

Then,  again,  you  have  an  executive  magistrate,  created  by  a 
form  of  election  which  merits  universal  admiration. 

In  the  form  of  this  government,  and  in  the  mode  of  legisla- 
tion, you  find  all  the  checks  which  the  greatest  politicians  and 
the  best  writers  have  ever  conceived.  What  more  can  reasonable 
men  desire  ?  Is  there  any  one  branch  in  which  the  whole 
legislative  and  executive  powers  are  lodged  ?  No !  The  legis- 
lative authority  is  lodged  in  three  distinct  branches,  properly 
balanced ;  the  executive  authority  is  divided  between  two 
branches ;  and  the  judicial  is  still  reserved  for  an  independent 
body,  who  hold  their  office  during  good  behavior.  This  organ- 
ization is  so  complex,  so  skillfully  contrived,  that  it  is  next  to 
impossible  that  an  impolitic  or  wicked  measure  should  pass  the 
great  scrutiny  with  success.  Now,  what  do  gentlemen  mean  by 
coming  forward  and  declaiming  against  this  government  ?  Why 
do  they  say  we  ought  to  limit  its  powers,  to  disable  it,  and  to 
destroy  its  capacity  of  blessing  the  people  ?  Has  philosophy 
suggested,  has  experience  taught,  that  such  a  government  ought 
not  to  be  trusted  with  every  thing  necessary  for  the  good  of 
society  ?  Sir,  when  you  have  divided  and  nicely  balanced  the 
departments  of  government ;  when  you  have  strongly  connected 
the  virtue  of  your  rulers  with  their  interests  ;  when,  in  short,  you 
have  rendered  your  system  as  perfect  as  human  forms  can  be,  — 
vou  must  place  confidence ;  you  must  give  power. 


Extent  of  Country  no  Bar  to   Union 

Edmund  Randc^t/th, 
[In  the  Virginia  convention  on  the  federal  constitution, 

Extent  of  country,  in  my  conception,  ought  to  be  no  bar  to 
the  adoption  of  a  good  government.  No  extent  on  earth  seems 
♦o  me  too  great,  provided  the  laws  be  wisely  made  and  executed. 
The  principles  of  representation  and  responsibility  may  pervade 
a  large  as  well  as  a  small  territory ;  and  tyranny  is  as  easily 
introduced  into  a  small  as  into  a  large  district.  Union,  Mr. 
Chairman,  is  the  rock  of  our  salvation.  Our  safety,  our  political 
happiness,  our  existence  depend  on  the  union  of  these  states. 
Without  union,  the  people  of  this  and  the  other  states  will  undergo 
the  unspeakable  calamities  which  discord,  faction,  turbulence, 
war,  and  bloodshed  have  continually  produced  in  other  countries. 
Without  union,  we  throw  away  all  those  blessings  for  which  we 
have  so  earnestly  fought.  Without  union,  there  is  no  peace,  sir, 
in  the  land. 


SUBLIME  PROSPECT'S.  327 

The  American  spirit  ought  to  be  mixed  with  American  pride 
—  pride  to  see  the  Union  magnificently  triumph.  Let  that 
glorious  pride  which  once  defied  the  British  thunder  reanimate 
you  again.  Let  it  not  be  recorded  of  Americans,  that,  after 
having  performed  the  most  gallant  exploits,  after  having  overcome 
the  most  astonishing  difficulties,  and  after  having  gained  the 
admiration  of  the  world  by  their  incomparable  valor  and  policy, 
they  lost  their  acquired  reputation,  lost  their  national  consequence 
and  happiness,  by  their  own  indiscretion.  Let  no  future  historian 
inform  posterity  that  Americans  wanted  wisdom  and  virtue  to 
concur  in  any  regular,  efficient  government.  Catch  the  present 
moment.  Seize  it  with  avidity.  It  may  be  lost,  never  to  be 
regained ;  and  if  the  Union  be  lost  now,  I  fear  it  will  remain  so 
forever. 


Sublime  Prospects.  —  akbkmdb. 

Who,  that  from  Alpine  hights  his  laboring  eye 

Shoots  round  the  wide  horizon,  to  survey 

Nilus  or  Ganges  rolling  his  broad  tide 

Through  mountains,  plains,  through  empires  black  with  shade, 

And  continents  of  sand,  will  turn  his  gaze 

To  mark  the  windings  of  a  scanty  rill 

That  murmurs  at  his  feet  ?     The  high-born  soul 

Disdains  to  rest  her  heaven-aspiring  wing 

Beneath  its  native  quarry.     Tired  of  earth 

And  this  diurnal  scene,  she  springs  aloft ; 

Through  fields  of  air  pursues  the  flying  storm  ; 

Rides  on  the  volleyed  lightning  through  the  heavens ; 

Or,  yoked  with  whirlwinds  and  the  northern  blast, 

Sweeps  the  long  track  of  day.     Then  high  she  soars 

The  blue  profound,  and,  hovering  o'er  the  sun, 

Beholds  him  pouring  the  redundant  stream 

Of  light ;  beholds  his  unrelenting  sway 

Bend  the  reluctant  planets  to  absolve 

The  fated  rounds  of  time.     Thence,  far  effused, 

'She  darts  her  swiftness  up  the  long  career 

Of  devious  comets  ;   through  its  burning  signs 

Exulting  circles  the  perennial  wheel 

Of  nature,  anrl  looks  back  on  all  the  stars, 

Whose  blended  light,  as  with  a  milkv  zone 

Invests  the  orient.     Now,  amazed,  she  views 

The  empyreal  wastes,  where  happy  spirits  hold, 


828  ROSS'S   SPEAKER. 

Beyond  this  concave  heaven,  their  calm  abode, 
And  fields  of  radiance,  whose  unfading  light 
Has  traveled  the  profound  six  thousand  years, 
Nor  yet  arrived  in  sight  of  mortal  things. 
Even  on  the  barriers  of  the  world,  untired, 
She  meditates  the  eternal  depth  below, 
Till,  half  recoiling,  down  the  headlong  steep 
She  plunges,  soon  o'erwhelmed  and  swallowed  up 
In  that  immense  of  being.     There  her  hopes 
Rest  at  the  fated  goal ;  for,  from  the  birth 
Of  mortal  man,  the  sovereign  Maker  said, 
That  not  in  humble  nor  in  brief  delight, 
Not  in  the  fading  echoes  of  renown, 
Power's  purple  robes,  nor  pleasure's  flowery  lap, 
The  soul  should  find  enjoyment  ;  but  from  these 
Turning,  disdainful,  to  an  equal  good, 
Through  all  the  ascent  of  things  enlarge  her  view, 
Till  every  bound  at  length  should  disappear, 
And  infinite  perfection  close  the  scene. 


France  and  the  United  States.  —  Gbobos  Wabhikotoic. 

(Born  1732,  died  1799.) 

[Reply,  as  president  of  the  United  States,  January  1,  1796,  to  ti.8 
address  of  the  minister  plenipotentiary  of  the  French  republic,  on  his 
presenting  the  colors  of  France  to  the  United  States.] 

Born,  sir,  in  a  land  of  liberty,  —  having  early  learned  its 
value,  —  having  engaged  in  a  perilous  conflict  to  defend  it,  — 
having,  in  a  word,  devoted  the  best  years  of  my  life  to  secure  its 
permanent  establishment  in  my  own  country,  —  my  anxious 
recollections,  my  sympathetic  feelings,  and  my  best  wishes  are 
irresistibly  excited  whensoever,  in  any  country,  I  see  an  oppressed 
nation  unfurl  the  banners  of  freedom.  But,  above  all,  the  events 
of  the  French  revolution  have  produced  the  deepest  solicitude, 
as  well  as  the  highest  admiration.  To  call  your  nation  brave, 
were  to  pronounce  but  common  praise.  Wonderful  people  ! 
Ages  to  come  will  read  with  astonishment  the  history  of  your 
brilliant  exploits.  I  rejoice  that  the  period  of  your  toils  and  of 
your  immense  sacrifices  is  approaching.  I  rejoice  that  the  inter- 
esting revolutionary  movements  of  so  many  years  have  issued  in 
the  formation  of  a  constitution  designed  to  give  permanency  to 
the  great  object  for  which  you  have  contended.     I  rejoice  t  hut 


THE  HERMIT.  329 

liberty,  which  you  have  so  long  embraced  with  enthusiasm, — 
liberty,  of  which  you  have  been  the  invincible  defenders,  —  now 
finds  an  asylum  in  the  bosom  of  a  regularly  organized  govern- 
ment ;  a  government  which,  being  formed  to  secure  the  hap- 
piness of  the  French  people,  corresponds  with  the  ardent  wishes 
of  my  heart,  while  it  gratifies  the  pride  of  every  citizen  of  the 
United  States  by  its  resemblance  to  his  own.  On  these  glorious 
events,  accept,  sir,  my  sincere  congratulations. 

In  delivering  to  you  these  sentiments,  I  express  not  my  own 
feelings  only,  but  those  of  my  fellow-citizens,  in  relation  to  the 
commencement,  the  progress,  and  the  issue  of  the  French  revo- 
lution ;  and  they  will  cordially  join  with  me  in  purest  wishes  to 
the  Supreme  Being  that  the  citizens  of  our  sister  republic,  our 
magnanimous  allies,  may  soon  enjoy  in  peace  that  liberty  which 
they  have  purchased  at  so  great  a  price,  and  all  the  happiness 
which  liberty  can  bestow. 

I  receive,  sir,  with  lively  sensibility,  the  symbol  of  the  triumphs 
and  of  the  enfranchisement  of  your  nation,  the  colors  of  France, 
which  you  have  now  presented  to  the  United  States.  The  trans- 
action will  he  announced  to  Congress,  and  the  colors  will  be 
deposited  with  those  archives  of  the  United  States  which  are  at 
once  the  evidences  and  the  memorials  of  their  freedom  and 
independence.  May  these  be  perpetual.  And  may  the  friend- 
ship of  the  two  republics  be  commensurate  with  their  existence. 


77ie  Hermit.  —  goldsmith. 

"  Turn,  gentle  hermit  of  the  dale, 
And  guide  my  lonely  way 

To  where  yon  taper  cheers  the  vale 
With  hospitable  ray. 

"  For  here  forlorn  and  lost  I  tread 
With  fainting  steps  and  slow  ; 

Where  wilds,  immeasurably  spread, 
Seem  lengthening  as  I  go." 

"  Forbear,  my  son,"  the  hermit  cries 
"  To  ternpt  the  dangerous  gloom  ; 

For  yonder  faithless  phantom  flies, 
To  lure  ihec  to  thv  doom. 


330  ROSS'S   SPEAKER. 

"  Here  to  the  houseless  child  of  want 

My  door  is  open  still ; 
And  though  my  portion  is  but  scant, 

I  give  it  with  good  will. 

"  Then  turn  to-night,  and  freely  share 
Whate'er  my  cell  bestows  — 

My  rushy  couch  and  frugal  fare, 
My  blessing  and  repose. 

"  No  flocks  that  range  the  valley  free 

To  slaughter  I  condemn  ; 
Taught  by  the  Power  that  pities  me, 

I  learn  to  pity  them. 

4  Rut  from  the  mountain's  grassy  side 

A  guiltless  feast  I  bring  ; 
A  scrip  with  herbs  and  fruits  supplied, 

And  water  from  the  spring. 

"  Then,  pilgrim,  turn  ;  thy  cares  forego  , 
All  earth-born  cares  are  wrong. 

Man  wants  but  little  here  below, 
Nor  wants  that  little  long." 


Man  alone  makes  War  on  his  own  Species. —  Soon 

The  hunting  tribes  of  air  and  earth 
Respect  the  brethren  of  their  birth. 
Nature,  who  loves  the  claim  of  kind, 
Less  cruel  chase  to  each  assigned. 
The  falcon,  poised  on  soaring  wing, 
Watches  the  wild  duck  by  the  spring ; 
The  slow-hound  wakes  the  fox's  lair  ; 
The  greyhound  presses  on  the  hare ; 
The  eagle  pounces  on  the  lamb ; 
The  wolf  devours  the  fleecy  dam  ; 
Even  tiger  fell,  and  sullen  bear, 
Their  likeness  and  their  lineage  spare. 
Man  only  mars  kind  nature's  plan, 
And  turns  the  fierce  pursuit  on  man ; 


MESSIAH,   A   SACRED   ECLOGUE.  331 

Plying  war's  desultory  trade, 
Incursion,  flight,  and  ambuscade, 
Since  Nimrod,  Cush's  mighty  son, 
At  first  the  bloody  game  begun. 


Messiah,  a  Sacred  Eclogue.  —  Ton. 

No  more  shall  nation  against  nation  rise, 

No  ardent  warriors  meet  with  hateful  eyes  ; 

No  fields  with  gleaming  steel  be  covered  o'er, 

The  brazen  trumpets  kindle  rage  no  more  ; 

But  useless  lances  into  scythes  shall  bend, 

And  the  broad  falchion  in  a  ploughshare  end. 

Then  palaces  shall  rise  ;  the  joyful  son 

Shall  finish  what  his  short-lived  sire  begun ; 

Their  vines  a  shadow  to  their  race  shall  yield, 

And  the  same  hand  that  sowed  shall  reap  the  field  , 

The  swain,  in  barren  deserts,  with  surprise, 

Sees  lilies  spring  and  sudden  verdure  rise  ; 

And  starts,  amidst  the  thirsty  wilds,  to  hear 

New  falls  of  water  murmuring  in  his  ear. 

On  rifted  rocks,  the  dragon's  late  abodes, 

The  green  reed  trembles  and  the  bulrush  nods. 

Waste,  sandy  valleys,  once  perplexed  with  thorn, 

The  spiry  fir  and  shapely  box  adorn  ; 

The  leafless  shrubs  the  flowering  palms  succeed, 

And  odorous  myrtle  to  the  noisome  weed. 

The  lambs  with  wolves  shall  graze  the  verdant  mead, 

And  boys  in  flowery  bands  the  tiger  lead. 

The  steer  and  lion  at  one  crib  shall  meet, 

And  harmless  serpents  lick  the  pilgrim's  feet. 

The  smiling  infant  in  his  hand  shall  take 

Thj  crested  basilisk  and  speckled  snake  ; 

Pleased,  the  green  lustre  of  the  scales  survey, 

And  with  their  forky  tongue  shall  innocently  play. 

Rise,  crowned  with  light,  imperial  Salem,  rise ! 
Exalt  thy  towery  head  and  lift  thy  eyes  ! 
See,  a  long  race  thy  spacious  courts  adorn  ■ 
See  future  sons  and  daughters,  yet  unborn, 
In  crowding  ranks  on  every  side  arise, 
Demanding  life,  impatient  for  the  skies. 


g32  ROSS'S    SPEAKER. 

See  barbarous  nations  at  thy  gates  attend, 

Walk  in  thy  light,  and  in  thy  temple  bend  ; 

See  thv  bright  altars  thronged  with  prostrate  kings, 

And  heaped  with  products  of  Sabaean  springs. 

For  thee  Idume's  spicy  forests  blow, 

And  seeds  of  gold  in  Ophir's  mountains  glow. 

See  heaven  its  sparkling  portals  wide  display, 

A.nd  break  upon  thee  in  a  flood  of  day. 

No  more  the  rising  sun  shall  gild  the  morn, 

Nor  evening  Cynthia  fill  her  silver  horn  ; 

But  lost,  dissolved  in  thy  superior  rays, 

One  tide  of  glory,  one  unclouded  blaze, 

O'erflow  thy  courts.     The  Light  himself  shall  shine 

Revealed,  and  God's  eternal  day  be  thine. 

The  seas  shall  waste,  the  skies  in  smoke  decay 

Rocks  fall  to  dust,  and  mountains  melt  away  ; 

But  fixed  his  word,  his  saving  power  remains  ; 

Thy  realm  forever  lasts,  thy  own  Messiah  reigns. 


The  Soldier's  Tear.  -T.  H.  Bah.it. 

Upon  the  hill  he  turned 

To  take  a  last  fond  look 
Of  the  valley,  and  the  village  church, 

And  the  cottage  by  the  brook  ; 
He  listened  to  the  sounds 

So  familiar  to  his  ear, 
And  the  soldier  leant  upon  his  sword 

And  wiped  away  a  tear. 

Beside  that  cottage  porch 

A  girl  was  on  her  knees  ; 
She  held  aloft  a  snowy  scarf, 

Which  fluttered  in  the  breeze  ; 
She  breathed  a  prayer  for  him, 

A  prayer  he  could  not  hear, 
But  he  paused  to  bless  her,  as  she  knelt 

And  wiped  away  a  tear. 

He  turned  and  left  the  spot , 

O,  do  not  deem  him  weak ! 
For  dauntless  was  the  soldier's  heart, 

Though  tears  were  on  his  cheek. 


FREE   DISCUSSION. 

(Jo  watch  the  foremost  rank 
In  danger's  dark  career  ; 

Be  sure  the  hand  most  daring  there 
Has  wiped  away  a  tear. 


The  Veteran.  — i.  H.  Bailbt. 

It  was  a  Sabbath  morn  ; 

The  bell  had  chimed  for  church, 
And  the  young  and  gay  were  gathering 

Around  the  rustic  porch  ; 

There  came  an  aged  man,  — 

In  a  soldier's  garb  was  he,  — 
And  gazing  round  the  group,  he  cried, 

"  Do  none  remember  me  ?  " 

The  veteran  forgot 

His  friends  were  changed  or  gone  ; 
The  manly  forms  around  him  there 

As  children  he  had  known. 

He  pointed  to  the  spot 

Where  his  dwelling  used  to  be, 
Then  told  his  name,  and  smiling  said, 

"  You  now  remember  me." 

Alas  !  none  knew  him  there  : 

He  pointed  to  a  stone 
On  which  the  name  he  breathed  was  traced. 

A  name  to  them  unknown  ; 

And  then  the  old  man  wept. 

"  I  am  friendless,  now,"  cried  he  ; 
"  Where  I  had  many  friends  in  youth, 

Not  one  remembers  me." 


Free  Discussion.  —  Wbbstbr. 

Important  as  I  deem  it  to  discuss,  on  all  proper  occasions, 
\\  e  policy  of  the  measures  at  present  pursued,  it  is  still  more 
important  to  maintain  the  right  of  such  discussion  in  its  full  and 
just  extent.  Sentiments  lately  sprung  up,  and  now  growing 
(ashionaMf,  make  n  necessary  to  be  <\|>licit  on  this  point      The 

P 


834  ROSS'S   SPEAKER. 

more  I  perceive  a  disposition  to  check  the  freedom  of  inquiry  by 
extravagant  and  unconstitutional  pretences,  the  firmer  shall  be 
the  tone  in  which  I  shall  assert,  and  the  freer  the  manner  in 
which  I  shall  exercise  it. 

It  is  the  ancient  and  undoubted  prerogative  of  this  people  to 
canvass  public  measures  and  the  merits  of  public  men.  It  is  a 
"  homebred  right "  —  a  fireside  privilege.  It  hath  ever  been 
enjoyed  in  every  house,  cottage,  and  cabin  in  the  nation.  It  is 
not  to  be  drawn  into  controversy.  It  is  as  undoubted  as  the 
right  of  breathing  the  air  or  walking  on  the  earth.  Belonging  to 
private  life  as  a  right,  it  belongs  to  public  life  as  a  duty  ;  and  it 
is  the  last  duty  which  those  whose  representative  I  am  shall  find 
me  to  abandon.  Aiming  at  all  times  to  be  courteous  and  tem- 
perate in  its  use,  except  when  the  right  itself  shall  be  questioned, 
I  shall  then  carry  it  to  its  extent.  I  shall  place  myself  on  the 
extreme  boundary  of  my  right,  and  bid  defiance  to  any  arm  that 
would  move  me  from  my  ground. 

This  high  constitutional  privilege  I  shall  defend  and  exercise 
within  this  house,  and  without  this  house,  and  in  all  places  ;  in 
time  of  peace,  and  in  all  times.  Living,  I  shall  assert  it ;  and, 
should  I  leave  no  other  inheritance  to  my  children,  by  the  bless- 
ing of  God  I  will  leave  them  the  inheritance  of  free  principles, 
and  the  example  of  a  manly,  independent,  and  constitutional  de- 
fense of  them. 


American  Institutions.  —  Wbbstbb. 

Who  is  there  among  us  that,  should  he  find  himself  on  any 
spot  of  the  earth  where  human  beings  exist,  and  where  the  exist- 
ence of  other  nations  is  known,  would  not  be  proud  to  say,  I 
am  an  American ;  I  am  a  countryman  of  Washington  ;  I  am 
a  citizen  of  that  republic  which,  although  it  has  suddenly  sprung 
up,  yet  there  are  none  on  the  globe  who  have  ears  to  hear,  and 
have  not  heard  of  it  —  who  have  eyes  to  see,  and  have  not  read 
of  it  —  who  know  any  thing,  and  yet  do  not  know  of  its  existence 
and  its  glory  ?  And,  gentlemen,  let  me  now  reverse  the  pic- 
ture. Let  me  ask,  Who  is  there  among  us,  if  he  were  to  be 
found  to-morrow  in  one  of  the  civilized  countries  of  Europe,  and 
were  there  to  learn  that  this  goodly  form  of  government  had 
been  overthrown  —  that  the  United  States  were  no  longer  united 
—  who  is  there  whose  heart  would  not  sink  within  him  ?  Who 
is  there  who  would  not  cover  his  face  for  very  shame  ? 

At  this  very  moment,  gentlemen,  our  country  is  a  general 


ON  GOVERNMENT  EXTRAVAGANCE.       335 

refuge  for  the  distressed  and  the  persecuted  of  other  natie-  *. 
Whoever  is  in  affliction  from  political  occurrences  in  his  r  vn 
country  looks  here  for  shelter.  Whether  he  be  republican.,  fly- 
ing  from  the  oppression  of  thrones  —  or  whether  he  be  monarch 
or  monarchist,  flying  from  thrones  that  crumble  and  foil  under 
or  around  him  —  he  feels  equal  assurance  that,  if  he  get  foot- 
hold on  our  soil,  his  person  is  safe,  and  his  rights  will  be  ro 
spected. 

We  have  tried  these  popular  institutions  in  times  of  great  ex- 
citement and  commotion,  and  they  have  stood  substantially  firm 
and  steady  while  the  fountains  of  the  great  political  deep  have 
been  elsewhere  broken  up  ;  while  thrones,  resting  on  ages  of 
prescription,  have  tottered  and  fallen ;  and  while,  in  other  coun- 
tries, the  earthquake  of  unrestrained  popular  commotion  has 
swallowed  up  all  law,  and  all  liberty,  and  all  right  together. 
Our  government  has  been  tried  in  peace,  and  it  has  been  tried 
in  war,  and  has  proved  itself  fit  for  both.  It  has  been  assailed 
from  without,  and  it  has  successfully  resisted  the  shock  ;  it  has 
been  disturbed  within,  and  it  has  effectually  quieted  the  disturb- 
ance. It  can  stand  trial ;  it  can  stand  assault ;  it  can  stand 
adversity  ;  it  can  stand  every  tiling  but  the  marring  of  its  own 
beauty  and  the  weakening  of  its  own  strength.  It  can  stand 
every  thing  but  the  effects  of  our  own  rashness  and  our  own 
rolly.  It  can  stand  every  thing  but  disorganization,  disunion, 
and  nullification. 


On  Government  Extravagance 

John  J.  Urittkndbn, 

The  bill  under  consideration  is  intended  to  authorize  the 
treasury  department  to  issue  ten  millions  of  treasury  notes,  to  be 
applied  to  the  discharge  of  the  expenses  of  government.  Habits 
of  extravagance,  it  seems,  are  hard  to  change.  They  constitute 
a  disease  ;  ay,  sir,  a  very  dangerous  one.  That  of  the  present 
administration  came  to  a  crisis  about  eight  months  ago,  and  it 
cost  the  patient  ten  millions  of  treasury  notes  to  get  round  the 
corner.  And  now  it  is  as  bad  as  ever.  Another  crisis  has 
come,  and  the  doctors  ask  for  ten  millions  more.  The  disease 
is  desperate.  Money  or  death.  They  say,  if  the  bill  is  rejected 
government  must  "  stop."  What  must  stop  ?  The  laws  ?  The 
judicial  tribunals?  The  legislative  bodies?  The  institutions  of 
the  country?  No,  no,  sir;  all  these  will  remain  and  go  on. 
What  stops,  then  ?      Its  own  extravagance  ;  that  must  stop,  unJ 


336  ROSS'S   SPEAKER. 

•*  there's  the  rub  !  "  Besides,  sir,  1  must  really  be  permitted  to 
say,  that  if  to  keep  this  administration  on  its  feet  is  to  cost  ten 
millions  of  extraordinary  supply  every  six  or  eight  months,  why, 
Mr.  President,  the  sooner  its  fate  is  recorded  in  the  bills  of  mor- 
tality the  better. 

Let  me  know  how  this  money  is  to  be  applied.  I  never  will 
vote  a  dollar  on  the  mere  cry  of  "  exigency  !  "  —  "  crisis  !  "  I 
will  be  behind  no  man  in  meeting  the  real  necessities  of  my 
country,  but  I  will  not  b.indly  or  heedlessly  vote  away  the 
money  of  the  people,  or  involve  them  in  debt.  If  the  govern- 
ment wants  money,  let  it  borrow  it.  If  extravagance  or  necessity 
shall  bring  a  national  debt  upon  us,  let  it  come  openly,  and  not 
steal  upon  us  in  the  disguise  of  treasury  notes.  "  O,  but  it  is  no 
debt !  "  say  gentlemen  ;  "  it  is  only  issuing  a  few  notes  to  meet 
a  crisis."  Well,  sir,  whether  it  be  a  national  debt  I  will  not  say. 
This  I  know  :  it  will  be  followed,  whatever  it  is,  with  the  serious 
and  substantial  consequence,  that  the  people  of  the  United  States 
will  have  to  pay  it  —  every  cent  of  it  —  and  with  interest.  Sir, 
I  desire  to  see  this  experimenting  administration  forced  to  make 
some  experiments  in  economy.  It  is  almost  the  only  sort  of 
experiment  to  which  it  seems  averse.  Its  cry  is  still  for  money, 
money,  money  !  But,  for  one,  I  say  to  it,  "  Take  physic,  Pomp  !  " 
Lay  aside  your  extravagance.  Too  much  money  has  been  your 
bane  ;  and  I  do  not  feel  myself  required,  by  any  duty,  to  grant 
you  more  at  present.  If  I  did,  it  would  not  be  in  the  form  pro- 
posed by  the  bill. 


The  Tyrant  Gesler  and  William  Tell.  —  Knowlm. 

Gesler.     Why  speak'st  thou  not  ? 

William  Tell.     For  wonder. 

Ges.     Wonder  ? 

Tell.    Yes,  that  thou  shouldst  seem  a  man. 

Ges.     What  should  I  seem  ? 

Tell.    A  monster  ! 

Ges.     Ha,  beware  !  —  think  on  thy  chains. 

Tell.    Though  they  were  doubled,  and  did  weigh  me  d'jwa 
Prostrate  to  earth,  methinks  I  could  rise  up 
Erect,  with  nothing  but  the  honest  pride 
Of  telling  thee,  usurper,  to  the  teeth, 
Thou  art  a  monster.     Think  upon  my  chains ' 
Show  me  the  link  of  them,  which,  could  it  speas, 
Would  give  its  evidence  aga  nst  my  word. 


UESLEK   AND    WILLIAM   TELL  SiT? 

Think  on  my  chains  !     Think  on  my  chain*  ! 
How  came  they  on  me  ? 

Ges.     Darest  thou  question  me  ? 

Tell.    Darest  thou  not  answer  ? 

Ges.     Do  I  hear  ? 

Tell.    Thou  dost. 

Jres.     Beware  my  vengeance  ! 

Tell.    Can  it  more  than  kill  ? 

Ges.     Enough  —  it  can  do  that. 

Tell.     No,  not  enough. 
It  t&n  not  take  away  the  grace  of  life, 
Its  comeliness  of  look  that  virtue  gives, 
Its  port  erect  with  consciousness  of  truth, 
Its  rich  attire  of  honorable  deeds, 
Its  fair  report,  that's  rife  on  good  men's  tongues  j 
It  can  not  lay  its  hands  on  these,  no  more 
Than  it  can  pluck  his  brightness  from  the  sun, 
Or,  with  polluted  finger,  tarnish  it. 

Ges.     But  it  can  make  thee  writhe. 

Tell.    It  may. 

Ges.     And  groan. 

Tell.    It  may  ;  and  I  may  cry, 
(Ju  on,  though  it  should  make  me  groan  again. 

Ges.     Whence  comest  thou  ? 

Tell.    From  the  mountains.     Wouldst  thou  leart 
What  news  from  them  ? 

Ges.     Canst  tell  me  any  ? 

Tell.    Ay  ;  they  watch  no  more  the  avalanche. 

Ges.     VVhy  so  ? 

Tell.    Because  they  look  for  thee.     The  hurricane 
Comes  unawares  upon  them  ;  from  its  bed 
The  torrent  breaks,  and  finds  them  in  its  track. 

Ges.     What  do  they  then  ? 

Tell.    Thank  Heaven  it  is  not  thou  ! 
Thou  hast  perverted  nature  in  them.     The  earth 
Presents  her  fruits  to  them,  and  is  not  thanked  ; 
The  harvest  sun  is  constant,  and  they  scarce 
Return  his  smile  ;  their  flocks  and  herds  increase 
And  they  look  on  as  men  who  count  a  loss. 
They  hear  of  thriving  children  born  to  them, 
And  never  shake  the  teller  by  the  hand  ; 
While  those  they  have  they  see  grow  up  and  flourish, 
And  think  as  little  of  caressing  tlicm 
As  they  were  things  a  deadly  plague  had  gmit. 
32 


33S  UCSS'S   SPKAKEH. 

There's  net  a  blesswig  Heaven  vouchsafes  them,  but 
The  thought  of  thee  doth  wither  to  a  curse, 
As  something  they  must  lose,  and  richer  were 
To  lack. 

Ges.     That's  right !     I'd  have  them  like  their  hill*, 
That  never  smile,  though  wanton  summer  tempt 
Them  e'er  so  much. 

Tell.    But  they  do  sometimes  smile. 

Ges.     Ay  !  —  when  is  that  ? 

Tell.    When  they  do  talk  of  vengeance. 

Ges.     Vengeance  ?     Dare 
They  talk  of  that  ? 

Tell.    Ay,  and  expect  it,  too. 

Ges.     From  whence  ? 

Tell.    From  Heaven. 

Ges.     From  Heaven  ? 

Tell.    And  the  true  hearts 
Are  lifted  up  to  it,  on  every  hill, 
For  justice  on  thee. 


The  Murderer's  Secret.  —  Wrann. 

[These  parts  may  be  spoken  together,  or  separately.  | 

Thb  deed  was  executed  with  a  degree  of  self-possession  and 
steadiness  equal  to  the  wickedness  with  which  it  was  planned. 
The  circumstances,  now  clearly  in  evidence,  spread  out  the 
whole  scene  before  us.  Deep  sleep  had  fallen  on  the  destined 
victim,  and  on  all  beneath  his  roof.  A  healthful  old  man,  to 
whom  sleep  was  sweet,  the  first  sound  slumbers  of  the  night 
held  him  in  their  soft  but  strong  embrace.  The  assassin  enters, 
through  the  window  already  prepared,  into  an  unoccupied  apart- 
ment. With  noiseless  foot  he  paces  the  lonely  hall,  half  lighted 
by  the  moon  ;  he  winds  up  the  ascent  of  the  stairs,  and  reaches 
the  door  of  the  chamber.  Of  this  he  moves  the  lock,  by  soft 
and  continued  pressure,  till  it  turns  on  its  hinges  without  noise  ; 
and  he  enters,  and  beholds  his  victim  before  him.  The  room 
was  uncommonly  open  to  the  admission  of  light.  The  face  of 
the  innocent  sleeper  was  turned  from  the  murderer,  and  the 
beams  of  the  moon,  resting  on  the  gray  locks  of  his  aged  temple, 
showed  him  where  to  strike.  The  fatal  blow  is  given !  and  the 
victim  passes,  without  a  struggle  or  a  motion,  from  the  repose  of 
Bleep  to   the  repose   of  death !     It  is  the  assassin's  purpose  to 


THE   MURDERER'S   SECRET.  339 

make  sure  work  ;  and  he  yet  plies  the  dagger,  though  it  was 
obvious  that  life  had  been  destroyed  by  the  blow  of  the  bludgeon. 
He  even  raises  the  aged  arm,  that  he  may  not  fail  in  his  aim  a' 
the  heart,  and  replaces  it  again  over  the  wounds  of  the  poniard ' 
To  finish  the  picture,  he  explores  the  wrist  for  the  pulse  !  He 
feels  for  it,  and  ascertains  that  it  beats  no  longer  !  It  is  accom- 
plished. The  deed  is  done.  He  retreats,  retraces  his  steps  to 
the  window,  passes  out  through  it  as  he  came  in,  and  escapes. 
He  has  done  the  murder  —  no  eye  has  seen  hi'm,  no  ear  has 
heard  him.     The  secret  is  his  own,  and  it  is  safe  ! 

Ah  !  gentlemen,  that  was  a  dreadful  mistake.  Such  a  secret 
can  be  safe  nowhere.  The  whole  creation  of  God  has  neither 
nook  nor  corner  where  the  guilty  can  bestow  it,  and  say  it  is 
safe.  Not  to  speak  of  that  eye  which  glances  through  all  dis- 
guises, and  beholds  every  thing,  as  in  the  splendor  of  noon,— 
such  secrets  of  guilt  are  never  safe  from  detection,  even  by  man. 


The  Same.     Part  Second.  —  Wbbsteb. 

Trde  it  is,  generally  speaking,  that "  murder  will  out."  True 
it  is,  that  Providence  hath  so  ordained,  and  doth  so  govern  things, 
that  those  who  break  the  great  law  of  Heaven,  by  shedding  man's 
blood,  seldom  succeed  in  avoiding  discovery ;  especially  in  a 
case  exciting  so  much  attention  as  this,  discovery  must  and  will 
come,  sooner  or  later.  A  thousand  eyes  turn  at  once  to  explore 
every  man,  every  thing,  every  circumstance,  connected  with  the 
time  and  place ;  a  thousand  ears  catch  every  whisper ;  a  thou- 
sand excited  minds  intensely  dwell  on  the  scene,  shedding  all 
their  light,  and  ready  to  kindle  the  slightest  circumstance  into  a 
blaze  of  discovery.  Meantime  the  guilty  soul  can  not  keep  its 
own  secret. 

It  is  false  to  itself;  or  rather  it  feels  an  irresistible  impulse  of 
conscience  to  be  true  to  itself;  it  labors  under  its  guilty  posses- 
sion, and  knows  not  what  to  do  with  it.  The  human  heart  was 
not  made  for  the  residence  of  such  an  inhabitant ;  it  finds  itself 
preyed  on  by  a  torment  which  it  dares  not  acknowledge  to  God 
or  man.  A  vulture  is  devouring  it,  and  it  asks  no  sympathy  or 
assistance,  cither  from  heaven  or  earth.  The  secret  which  the 
murderer  possesses  soon  comes  to  possess  him;  and,  like  the 
evil  spirits  of  which  we  read,  it  overcomes  him,  and  leads  him 
whithersoever  ii  will,  lie  feels  it  beating  al  his  heart,  rising  to 
his  throat,  and    demanding   disclosure.      Il<-   thinks  the   whole 


340  ROSS'S  SPEAKER. 

world  sees  it  in  his  face,  reads  it  in  his  eyes,  and  almost  hears  its 
workings  in  the  very  silence  of  his  thoughts.  It  has  become  his 
master.  It  betrays  his  discretion  ;  it  breaks  down  his  courage 
it  conquers  his  prudence.  When  suspicions,  from  without,  be- 
gin to  embarrass  him,  and  the  net  of  circumstances  to  entangle 
him,  the  fatal  secret  struggles  with  still  greater  violence  to  burst 
forth.  It  must  be  confessed ;  it  will  be  confessed ;  there  is  no 
refuge  from  confession  but  suicide  ;  and  suicide  is  confession. 


War  with  France.  —  J.  c.  Calhwn. 

The  first  thing  that  strikes  me,  sir,  in  casting  my  eyes  to  the 
future,  is  the  utter  impossibility  that  war,  should  there  unfortu- 
nately be  one,  can  have  an  honorable  termination.  The  capacity 
of  France  to  inflict  injury  upon  us  is  ten  times  greater  than  ours 
to  inflict  injuries  on  her ;  while  the  cost  of  the  war,  in  proportion 
to  her  means,  would  be  Jh  nearly  the  same  proportion  less  than 
ours  to  our  means.  She  has  relatively  a  small  commerce  to  be 
destroyed,  while  we  have  the  largest  in  the  world,  in  proportion 
to  our  capital  and  population.  She  may  threaten  and  harass  our 
coast,  while  her  own  is  safe  from  assault.  1  do  not  hesitate  to 
pronounce,  sir,  that  a  war  with  France  will  be  among  the  great- 
est calamities  —  greater  than  a  war  with  England  herself.  The 
power  of  the  latter  to  annoy  us  may  be  greater  than  that  of  the 
former ;  but  so  is  ours,  in  turn,  greater  to  annoy  England  than 
France.  Nothing  can  be  more  destructive  to  our  commerce  and 
navigation  than  for  England  to  be  neutral,  while  we  are  belliger- 
ent, in  a  contest  with  such  a  country  as  France.  The  whole  of 
our  commercial  marine,  with  our  entire  shipping,  would  pass  al- 
most instantly  into  the  hands  of  England.  With  the  exception 
of  our  public  armed  vessels,  there  would  be  scarcely  a  flag  of 
)urs  afloat  on  the  ocean.  We  grew  rich  by  being  neutral  while 
England  was  belligerent.  It  was  that  which  so  suddenly  built 
up  the  mighty  fabric  of  our  prosperity  and  greatness.  Reverse 
the  position :  let  England  be  neutral  while  we  are  belligerent, 
and  the  sources  of  our  wealth  and  prosperity  would  be  speedily 
exhausted. 

In  a  just  and  necessary  war,  all  these  consequences  ought  to  be 
fearlessly  met.  Though  a  friend  to  peace,  when  a  proper  occa- 
sion occurs  I  would  be  among  the  last  to  dread  the  consequences 
of  war.  I  think  the  wealth  and  blood  of  a  country  are  well  po-ired 
out  in  maintaining  a  just,  honorable,  and  necessary  war     but,  in 


THE   PRESERVATION    OF  THE   UNION.  341 

in  such  a  war  as  that  with  which  the  country  is  now  threatened 
—  a  mere  war  of  etiquette  —  a  war  turning  on  a  question  so 
trivial  as  whether  an  explanation  shall  or  shall  not  be  given — • 
no,  whether  it  has  or  has  not  been  given,  (for  that  is  the  reai 
point  on  which  the  controversy  turns,) — to  put  in  jeopardy  the 
lives  and  property  of  our  citizens,  and  the  liberty  and  institutions 
of  our  country,  is  worse  than  folly  —  is  madness.  I  say  the  liberty 
and  institutions  of  the  country.  I  hold  them  to  be  in  imminent 
danger.  Such  has  been  the  grasp  of  executive  power,  that  we 
have  not  been  able  to  resist  its  usurpations,  even  in  a  period  of 
peace  ;  and  how  much  less  shall  we  be  able,  with  the  vast  in- 
crease of  power  and  patronage  which  a  war  must  confer  on  thai 
department  ?  In  a  sound  condition  of  the  country,  with  our  in- 
stitutions in  their  full  vigor,  and  every  department  confined  to  its 
proper  sphere,  we  would  have  nothing  to  fear  from  a  war  with 
France,  or  any  other  power ;  but  our  system  is  deeply  diseased, 
and  we  may  fear  the  worst  in  being  involved  in  a  war  at  such  a 
juncture. 


The  Preservation  of  the  Union.— Cass 

Sir,  1  may  well  appeal  to  those  who  find  in  the  constitution 
or  out  of  the  constitution  this  power  to  control  the  territories, 
whether  it  is  a  power  that  ought  to  be  exercised  under  existing 
circumstances.  Here  is  one  half  of  a  great  country  which  be- 
lieves, with  a  unanimity  perhaps  without  a  parallel  in  grave  national 
questions,  that  the  constitution  has  delegated  to  Congress  no  such 
power  whatever.  And  there  is  a  large  portion  of  the  other  half 
which  entertains  similar  views ;  while  of  those  who  see  in  the 
constitution  sufficient  grounds  for  legislative  action,  there  are 
many  who  admit,  indeed,  probably  there  are  few  who  deny,  that 
the  question  is  not  free  from  serious  doubts. 

Besides  the  want  of  constitutional  power,  there  are  at  least 
fourteen  states  of  this  Union  which  see  in  this  measure  a  direct 
attack  upon  their  rights,  and  a  disregard  of  their  feelings  and 
interests,  as  injurious  in  itself  as  it  is  offensive  to  their  pride  of 
character,  and  incompatible  with  the  existence  of  those  bonds 
of  amity  which  are  stronger  than  constitutional  t<es  to  hold  us 
together.  No  man  can  shut  his  eyes  to  the  excitement  which 
prevails  there,  and  which  is  borne  to  us  by  the  press  in  count- 
less articles  coming  from  legislative  proceedings,  from  popular 
assemblies,  and  from  all  the  sources  whence  public  opinion  'n 
derived,   and    be  insensible  to  the  evil  day  that  is  upon    us.      1 


S4*2  ROSS'S   SPEAKER. 

believe  this  Union  will  survive  all  the  dangers  with  which  it  may 
be  manaced,  however  trying  the  circumstances  in  which  it  may 
be  placed.  I  believe  it  is  not  destined  to  perish  till  long  after  it 
shall  have  fulfilled  the  great  mission  confided  to  it,  of  example 
and  encouragement  to  the  nations  of  the  earth  who  are  struggling 
with  the  despotism  of  centuries,  and  groping  their  way  in  a  dark- 
ness once  impenetrable,  but  where  the  light  of  knowledge  and 
freedom  is  beginning  to  disperse  the  gloom. 

B>;t  to  maintain  this  proud  position,  this  integrity  of  political 
existence,  on  which  so  much  for  us  and  for  the  world  depends, 
we  must  carefully  avoid  those  sectional  questions  so  much  and 
so  forcibly  deprecated  by  the  father  of  his  country,  and  culti- 
vatir.g  a  spirit  of  mutual  regard,  adding  to  the  considerations  of 
interest  which  hold  us  together  the  higher  motives  of  affection 
and  of  affinity  of  views  and  of  sympathies.  Sad  will  be  the  day 
when  the  first  drop  of  blood  is  shed  in  the  preservation  of  this 
Union.  The  day  need  never  come,  and  never  will  come,  if  the 
same  spirit  of  compromise  and  of  concession  by  each  to  the  feel- 
ings of  all,  which  animated  our  fathers,  continues  to  animate  us 
and  our  children.  But  if  powers  offensive  to  one  portion  of  the 
country,  and  of  doubtful  obligation,  —  to  say  the  least  of  it,  —  are 
to  be  exercised  by  another,  and  under  circumstances  of  peculiar 
excitement,  this  confederation  may  be  rent  in  twain,  leaving  an- 
other example  of  that  judicial  blindness  with  which  God,  in  his 
providence,  sometimes  visits  the  sins  of  nations. 


The  True  Nature  of  our  Government. 

D.  Ulmann, 

The  great  truth  which  was  promulgated  by  the  Declaration  of 
Independence,  and  established  by  the  war  of  the  revolution,  and 
made  the  distinguishing  characteristic  of  our  nationality,  was, 
that  all  legitimate  power  resides  in,  and  is  derived  from,  the  peo- 
ple. This  sublime  truth,  to  us  so  self-evident,  so  simple,  so  ob- 
vious, was  before  that  time  measurably  undeveloped  in  the  history 
of  the  world.  Philosophers,  in  their  dreams,  had  built  ideal  gov- 
ernments ;  Plato  had  luxuriated  in  the  happiness  of  his  fanciful 
republic  ;  Sir  Thomas  More  had  reveled  in  the  bright  visions  of 
his  Utopia ;  the  immortal  Milton  had  uttered  his  sublime  views 
on  freedom  ;  and  the  great  Locke  had  published  his  profound 
speculations  on  the  fue  principles  of  government ;  but  never 
until  the  establishment  of  American  independence,  was  it.  excep* 


TKUE  NATURE  OF   OUR  GOVERNMENT.     343 

in  very  imperfect  modes,  acknowledged  by  a  nation,  and  made 
the  corner  stone  and  foundation  of  its  government,  that  the  sover- 
eign power  is  vested  in  the  mass.  It  was  a  total  condemnation 
of  all  prevalent  political  theories ;  an  absolute  contradiction  of 
the  doctrines  of  the  divine  right  of  kings  to  reign,  and  of  passive 
obedience  ;  an  emanation  from,  and  a  constituent  part  of,  the  age- 
long movement  of  the  human  mind  —  the  principle  of  progress. 
It  burst  upon  mankind  like  the  roar  of  thunder  in  a  cloudless 
sky,  and  the  hearts  of  nations  leaped  with  sympathy.  They  felt 
that  a  hidden  power  had  been  revealed  to  man,  a  power  destined 
to  advance  in  its  glorious  career  of  conquest,  until  the  day  when 
it  shall  spring  at  a  single  bound  to  the  throne  of  the  world. 

This  fundamental  principle  of  our  republican  government,  the 
sovereignty  of  the  people,  when  analyzed,  resolves  itself  into  the 
equal  and  unrestrained  right  of  each  individual  to  judge  and  act 
for  himself  in  all  matters  of  social,  civil,  political,  and  religious 
import.  When  each  constituent  member  of  the  community  freely 
and  fearlessly  forms  and  expresses  his  own  opinions,  and  consents 
to  be  controlled  by  the  general  result  of  the  opinions  of  all  who 
are  united  in  the  same  organization,  we  have  a  complete  ex- 
emplification of  the  theory  of  our  government.  A  community 
thus  constituted  exhibits  the  strongest  possible  contrast  to  that 
most  abominable  and  abhorred  of  all  human  governments,  a  des- 
potism. In  the  former,  all  are  equal,  and  the  combined  opinions 
of  a  majority  control.  In  the  latter,  one  mind,  or  a  few  minds, 
control,  but  the  great  mass  are  slaves.  Between  these  two  ex- 
tremes may  be  arranged  those  governments  in  which  equal 
political  rights  are  partially  extended  or  curtailed.  But  the 
slightest  curtailment  impairs  the  fundamental  principle.  Divest 
but  a  single  member  of  this  great  republic  of  his  right  to  form 
and  exercise  his  free  opinion  on  all  matters,  political  and  reli- 
gious, and  you  mar  the  beauty  and  symmetry  of  the  system,  and 
so  f.ir  impair  its  perfection.  Entire  equality,  entire  freedom  in 
the  formation  of  political  and  religious  opinions,  and  the  exer- 
cise of  political  and  religious  rights,  are  the  vital  principle  of  oui 
republic.  It  matters  not,  to  the  public  weal,  whether  this  free- 
dom  of  individual  opinion  be  crushed  by  a  single  despot,  or  be 
extorted  by  the  tyranny  of  an  oligarchy,  or  a  hierarchy  ;  it  is  lost 
to  the  man  ;  and  the  elementary  principle  of  progress  and  free- 
dom is  equally  extinguished,  or  silenced.  So  far  as  the  despot^ 
vhgarchy,  or  hierarchy,  assumes  a  control  over  his  opinions,  he 
is  driven  buck  from  the  freedom  of  an  equal,  independent  citizen, 
und  is  constrained  to  approach  the  condition  of  a  subject  or  a 
■luve. 


844  KOSSS  SPEAKER. 


The  Sentinels  of  Liberty.  —  Whbbtbk. 

When  the  members  of  this  house  shall  lose  the  freedom  of 
speech  and  debate ;  when  they  shall  surrender  the  right  of 
publicly  and  freely  canvassing  all  important  measures  of  the 
executive  ;  when  they  shall  not  be  allowed  to  maintain  their 
own  authority  and  their  own  privileges  by  vote,  declaration,  or 
resolution,  they  will  then  be  no  longer  free  representatives  of  a 
free  people,  but  slaves  themselves,  and  fit  instruments  to  make 
slaves  of  others. 

Sir,  if  the  people  have  a  right  to  discuss  the  official  conduct 
of  the  executive,  so  have  their  representatives.  We  have  been 
(aught  to  regard  a  representative  of  the  people  as  a  sentinel  on 
the  watch-tower  of  liberty.  Is  he  to  be  blind,  though  visible 
danger  approaches  ?  Is  he  to  be  deaf,  though  sounds  of  peril 
fill  the  air  ?  Is  he  to  be  dumb,  while  a  thousand  duties  impel 
him  to  raise  the  cry  of  alarm  ?  Is  he  not,  rather,  to  catch  the 
lowest  whisper  which  breathes  intention  or  purpose  of  encroach- 
ment on  the  public  liberties,  and  to  give  his  voice  breath  and 
utterance  at  the  first  appearance  of  danger  ?  Is  not  his  eye 
to  traverse  the  whole  horizon,  with  the  keen  and  eager  vision  of 
an  unhooded  hawk,  detecting,  through  all  disguises,  every  enemy 
advancing,  in  any  form,  toward  the  citadel  which  he  guards  ? 

Sir,  this  watchfulness  for  public  liberty,  this  duty  of  foreseeing 
danger  and  proclaiming  it,  this  promptitude  and  boldness  in 
resisting  attacks  on  the  constitution  from  any  quarter,  this  de- 
fence of  established  landmarks,  this  fearless  resistance  of  what- 
ever would  transcend  or  remove  them,  —  all  belong  to  the  repre- 
sentative character,  are  interwoven  with  its  very  nature,  and  of 
which  it  can  not  be  deprived,  without  converting  an  active, 
intelligent,  faithful  agent  of  the  people  into  an  unresisting  and 
passive  instnirosnt  of  power.  A  representative  body  which  gives 
up  these  rignts  and  duties  gives  itself  up.  It  is  a  representative 
body  no  longer.  It  has  broken  the  tie  between  itself  and  its 
constituents,  and  henceforth  is  fit  only  to  be  regarded  as  an  inert, 
self-sacrificed  mass,  from  which  all  appropriate  principle  of 
vitality  has  departed  forever. 


POLITICAL  COIIRUPTION.  &4S 


Political  Corruption.  —  McDufpie. 

Sir,  we  are  apt  to  treat  the  idea  of  our  own  corruptibility 
as  utterly  visionary,  and  to  ask,  with  a  grave  affectation  of  digni- 
ty, "  What !  do  you  think  a  member  of  Congress  can  be  corrupt- 
ed ?  "  —  Sir,  I  speak  what  I  have  long  and  deliberately  considered, 
when  I  say,  that  since  man  was  created,  there  never  has  been  a 
political  body  on  the  face  of  the  earth  that  would  not  be  cor- 
rupted under  the  same  circumstances.  Corruption  steals  upon 
us  in  a  thousand  insidious  forms,  when  we  are  least  aware  of  its 
approaches. 

Of  all  the  forms  in  which  it  can  present  itself,  the  bribery  of 
office  is  the  most  dangerous,  because  it  assumes  the  guise  of 
patriotism  to  accomplish  its  fatal  sorcery.  We  are  often  asked, 
"  Where  is  the  evidence  of  corruption?  Have  you  seen  it  ?  "  Sir, 
do  you  expect  to  see  it  ?  You  might  as  well  expect  to  see  the 
embodied  forms  of  pestilence  and  famine  stalking  before  you,  as 
to  see  the  latent  operations  of  this  insidious  power.  We  may 
walk  amidst  it  and  breathe  its  contagion,  without  being  conscious 
of  its  presence. 

All  experience  teaches  us  the  irresistible  power  of  temptation, 
when  vice  assumes  the  form  of  virtue.  The  great  enemy  of 
mankind  could  not  have  consummated  his  infernal  scheme  for 
the  seduction  of  our  first  parents,  but  for  the  disguise  in  which 
he  presented  himself.  Had  he  appeared  as  the  devil,  in  his 
proper  form  —  had  the  spear  of  Ithuriel  disclosed  the  naked 
deformity  of  the  fiend  of  hell  —  the  inhabitants  of  paradise  would 
have  shrunk  with  horror  from  his  presence. 

But  he  came  as  the  insinuating  serpent,  and  presented  a 
beautiful  apple,  the  most  delicious  fruit  in  all  the  garden.  He 
told  his  glowing  story  to  the  unsuspecting  victim  of  his  guile. 
"It  can  be  no  crime  to  taste  of  this  delightful  fruit.  It  will 
disclose  to  you  the  knowledge  of  good  and  evil.  It  will  raise 
you  to  an  equality  with  the  angels."  Such,  sir,  was  the  process  , 
and  in  this  simple  but  impressive  narrative  we  have  the  most 
beautiful  and  philosophical  illustration  of  the  frailty  of  man,  and 
the  power  of  temptation,  that  could  possibly  be  exhibited. 

Mr.  Chairman,  I  have  been  forcibly  struck  with  the  similarity 
between  our  present  situation  and  that  of  Eve,  after  it  was  an 
nounced  that  Satan  was  on  the  borders  of  parudise.  We,  too, 
nave  been  warned  that  the  enemy  is  on  our  borders.  But  God 
forbid  that  the  similitude  should  be  carried  any  farther.  Eve, 
conscious  of  her   innocence,  sough>    temptation    and   defied   it. 


3-lti  ROSS'S  SPEAKER. 

The  catastrophe  is  too  fatally  known  to  us  all.  She  went  "  with 
the  blessings  of  Heaven  on  her  head,  and  its  purity  in  her 
heart,"  guarded  by  the  ministry  of  angels ;  she  returned  cov- 
ered with  shame,  under  the  heavy  denunciation  of  heaven's 
everlasting  curse. 


Instability  of  Human  Governments.— Rutledob. 

Sir,  human  nature  is  the  same  every  where ;  and  man  is 
precisely  the  same  sort  of  being  in  the  new  world  that  he  is  in 
the  old.  All  Europe  was  once  free.  But  where  now  is  the 
diet  of  Sweden  ?  Where  are  the  states  of  Holland,  and  Portu- 
gal, and  the  republics  of  Switzerland  and  Italy  ?  The  people  of 
those  countries  were  once  free  and  happy,  but  their  governments, 
for  the  want  of  some  protecting  check,  some  inherent  principle 
to  defend  themselves,  have  all  been  subverted ;  they  have  all 
traveled  the  same  road ;  it  is  as  plain  as  a  turnpike  :  it  is  pointed 
out  by  the  ruins  of  other  republics. 

Every  where  the  same  causes  have  produced  the  same  effects 
The  honorable  gentleman  says  he  does  not  want  to  seek  exam- 
ples across  the  Atlantic.  Sir,  is  this  wise  ?  Are  we  to  shut  our 
eyes  to  the  light  of  history,  and  turn  away  from  the  voice  of 
experience  ?  Sir,  the  untutored  Indian  marks  on  his  tomahawk 
great  events  as  they  pass,  and  augurs  what  will  happen  from 
knowing  what  has  happened  ;  and  shall  we  travel  on  without 
noticing  the  finger  boards  erected  by  historians  for  our  security  ? 

The  gentleman  censures  our  having  noticed  France,  and  read 
a  passage  from  a  speech  of  the  illustrious  Washington,  where  he 
called  the  French  a  great  and  wise  people.  What  has  been  the 
fate  of  this  gallant  people  ?  Where  is  their  constitution  ?  We 
have  seen  La  Fayette  in  the  Champ  de  Mars,  at  the  head  of  fifty 
thousand  warriors,  who,  with  one  hand  grasping  their  swords, 
and  the  other  laid  on  the  altar,  swore,  in  the  presence  of  Al- 
mighty God,  they  never  would  desert  their  constitution. 

Through  all  the  departments  of  France  similar  pledges  were 
given.  Frenchmen  received  their  constitution  as  the  followers 
of  Mahomet  did  the  Alcoran,  and  thought  it  came  to  them  from 
Heaven.  They  swore  on  their  standards  and  their  sabers  never 
to  abandon  it.  But,  sir,  this  constitution  has  vanished  :  their 
swords,  which  were  to  have  formed  a  rampart  around  it,  are  now 
worn  by  the  consular  janizaries,  and  the  republican  standards 
are  among  the  trophies  which  decc  rate  the  vau  ted  roof  of  the 
consul's  palace. 


RELIGIOUS  EDUCATION.  84") 


Religious  Education.  —  E.  a.  Nisbbt 

No  citizen  entertains  stronger  convictions  of  the  necessity  of 
education  than  I  do,  or  a  more  honest  zeal  for  its  diffusion ;  I 
would  teach  all  —  dispel  every  shade  that  darkens  the  mind  of 
my  country,  and  establish  at  once  the  reign  of  light.  No  man 
within  the  limits  of  this  broad  land  should  plead  ignorance  for 
moral  delinquency  or  political  heresy.  Each  one  should  know 
his  rights  and  the  means  of  maintaining  them  —  should  under- 
stand all  his  duties,  personal,  relative,  and  divine,  and  enjoy  Na- 
ture by  a  just  appreciation  of  the  wisdom  of  her  laws,  and  the 
beauty  and  sublimity  of  her  exhibitions. 

I  would  light  up  the  peasant's  cot  with  the  radiance  of  sci- 
ence, and  kindle  the  beacon  of  letters  upon  the  dark  mountains 
of  ignorance  —  a  guide  to  the  weary  wanderers  of  mortality. 
Every  woman  should  feel  her  equality,  by  equal  culture  —  should 
reign  the  graceful  queen  of  domestic  and  sooial  life,  command- 
ing allegiance  by  the  polish  of  her  manners,  the  sweetness  of  her 
temper,  and  the  resources  of  her  mind  ;  dispensing,  with  en- 
dearing benignity,  such  favors  as  she  alone  can  give. 

Above  all,  as  the  mothers  of  society,  females  should  know 
well  what  constitutes  greatness  ;  what  right  and  wrong  ;  what 
genius — liberty —  science —  God  ;  that  they  may  form  well  and 
mold  aright  the  character  of  their  sons.  Intellectual  improve- 
ment merely,  however,  is  not  adequate  to  the  happiness  of  indi- 
viduals or  the  security  of  the  state.  There  is  a  wide  dilference 
between  the  education  of  thought  and  of  moral  principle.  One 
comes  to  illumine,  the  other  to  purify  the  state.  One  expands 
the  mind ;  the  other  directs  and  sanctifies  motives.  One  is 
light  —  beautiful,  it  is  true,  yet  often  cold  as  Alpine  reflections  ; 
the  other  is  warm,  and  genial,  and  vivifying. 

Knowledge,  I  concede,  is  a  means  of  propagating  virtue,  and  I 
might  add,  a  state  of  ignorance  is  incompatible  with  general 
piety  ;  still  there  is  no  necessary  connection  between  human 
science  and  virtuous  conduct.  In  science  there  is  no  high,  and 
holy,  and  uniform  standard  of  right  and  wrong  ;  nothing  to 
restrain  the  passions  and  curb  the  will  ;  nothing  to  hold  the 
conscience  and  the  conduct  to  rectitude,  by  the  richness  of  its 
rewards,  or  the  might  and  eternity  of  its  punishments.  The 
mind  may  teem  with  thought,  yet  the  character  be  destitute  of 
honor,  justice,  mercy,  and  benevolence. 

The  astronomer  may  explore  the  heavens,  and  read  intelligi- 
ble   the  language  of  the  stars,  yet  defraud   his  neighbor.     The 


348  ROSS'S   SPEAKER. 

historian  may  know  for  himself  the  polity  and  prowess,  the  tn 
umphs  and  defeats,  the  rise  and  fall  of  empires,  yet  fulfill  no 
duty,  relative  or  divine.  The  orator  may  delight  the  ear,  and 
arouse  or  tranquilize  the  feelings,  sway  the  mob,  and  rule  the 
Senate,  yet  plot  and  perpetuate  treason  against  his  country.  So, 
too,  the  judge  may  grace  the  ermin  by  the  depth  of  his  science 
and  the  extent  of  his  legal  lore,  and  still  receive  from  the  hand 
of  wealth  or  power  the  wages  of  corruption.  The  poet,  fancy- 
winged  with  living  light,  may  traverse  earth,  and  sea,  and  air, 
yet  see  no  God  in  all.  Religious  education  is  the  cheap  defense 
of  nations. 


Tribute  to   Chatham.  —  Wibt. 

When  the  great  Earl  of  Chatham  first  made  his  appearance 
in  the  House  of  Commons,  and  began  to  astonish  and  transport 
the  British  Parliament  and  the  British  nation  by  the  boldness, 
the  force,  and  range  of  his  thoughts,  and  the  celestial  fire  and 
pathos  of  his  eloquence,  it  is  well  known  that  the  minister,  Wal- 
pole,  and  his  brother  Horace,  from  motives  very  easily  under- 
stood, exerted  all  their  wit,  all  their  oratory,  all  their  acquire- 
ments of  every  description,  sustained  and  enforced  by  the 
unfeeling  "  insolence  of  office,"  to  heave  a  mountain  on  his 
gigantic  genius,  and  hide  it  from  the  world.  Poor  and  power- 
less attempt !  The  tables  were  turned.  He  rose  upon  them, 
in  the  might  and  irresistible  energy  of  his  genius,  and  in  spite 
of  all  their  convulsions,  frantic  agonies,  and  spasms,  he  strangled 
them  and  their  whole  faction  with  as  much  ease  as  Hercules  did 
the  serpent  Python. 

Who  can  turn  over  the  debates  of  the  day,  and  read  the 
account  of  this  conflict  between  youthful  ardor  and  hoary-headod 
cunning  and  power,  without  kindling  in  the  cause  of  the  tyro, 
and  shouting  at  his  victory.  That  they  should  have  attempted 
to  pass  off  the  grand,  yet  solid  and  judicious  operations  of  a  mind 
like  his  as  being  mere  theatrical  start  and  emotion,  the  giddy, 
hare-brained  eccentricities  of  a  romantic  boy,  —  that  they  should 
have  had  the  presumption  to  suppose  themselves  capable  of 
chaining  down  to  the  floor  of  the  Parliament  a  genius  so  ethereal, 
towering,  and  sublime,  —  seems  unaccountable.  Why  did  they 
not,  in  the  next  breath,  by  way  of  crowning  the  climax  of  vanity, 
bid  the  magnificent  fire-ball  to  descend  from  its  exalted  and 
appropriate  region,  and  perform  its  splendid  tour  along  the  sur 
face  of  the  earth  ? 


NAPOLEON  FALLEN.  349 


Napoleon  fallen.  —  Phillip*. 


He  is  fallen !  We  may  now  pause  before  that  splendid  prodi 
gy,  which  towered  amongst  us  like  some  ancient  ruin,  whose 
frown  terrified  the  glance  its  magnificence  attracted.  Grand, 
gloomy,  and  peculiar,  he  sat  upon  the  throne  a  sceptered  hermit, 
wrapped  in  the  solitude  of  his  own  originality.  A  mind  bold, 
independent,  and  decisive,  a  will  despotic  in  its  dictates,  an 
energy  that  distanced  expedition,  and  a  conscience  pliable  to 
every  touch  of  interest,  marked  the  outline  of  this  extraordi- 
nary character,  the  most  extraordinary,  perhaps,  that,  in  the 
annals  of  this  world,  ever  rose,  or  reigned,  or  fell. 

Flung  into  life  in  the  midst  of  a  revolution  that  quickened 
every  energy  of  a  people  who  acknowledge  no  superior,  he 
commenced  his  course  a  stranger  by  birth  and  a  scholar  by 
charity.  With  no  friend  but  his  sword,  and  no  fortune  but  his 
talents,  he  rushed  in  the  list  where  rank,  and  wealth,  and  genius 
nad  arrayed  themselves,  and  competition  fled  from  him  as  from 
the  glance  of  destiny. 

He  knew  no  motive  but  interest ;  he  acknowledged  no  crite- 
rion but  success ;  he  worshiped  no  God  but  ambition,  and  with 
an  Eastern  devotion  he  knelt  at  the  shrine  of  his  idolatry.  Sub- 
sidiary to  this,  there  was  no  creed  that  he  did  not  profess,  there 
was  no  opinion  that  he  did  not  promulgate.  In  the  hope  of  a 
dynasty,  he  upheld  the  crescent ;  for  the  sake  of  a  divorce,  he 
bowed  before  the  cross :  the  orphan  of  St.  Louis,  he  became  the 
adopted  child  of  the  republic ;  and  with  a  parricidal  ingratitude, 
on  the  ruins  both  of  the  throne  and  tribune  he  reared  the  throne 
of  his  despotism.  A  professed  Catholic,  he  imprisoned  the  pope  ; 
a  pretended  patriot,  he  impoverished  the  country ;  and  in  the 
name  of  Brutus  he  grasped  without  remorse,  and  wore  without 
shame,  the  diadem  of  the  Caesars. 

Through  this  pantomime  of  policy  fortune  played  the  clown 
to  his  caprices.  At  his  touch  crowns  crumbled,  beggars  reigned, 
systems  vanished,  the  wildest  theories  took  the  color  of  his 
whim,  and  all  that  was  venerable,  and  all  that  was  novel,  changed 
places  with  the  rapidity  of  a  drama.  Even  apparent  defeat 
assumed  the  appearance  of  victory  ;  his  flight  from  Egypt  con- 
firmed his  destiny  ;   ruin  itself  only  elevated  him  to  empire. 

But  if  his  fortune  was  great,  his  genius  was  transcendent; 
decision  flashed  upon  his  councils ;  and  it  was  the  same  to 
decide  and   to  perform.     To  inferior  intellects  his  combinatior.t 


350  ROSS'S   SPEAKER. 

appeared  perfectly  impossible,  his  plans  perfectly  impracticable 
but  in  his  hands,  simplicity  marked  their  development  and 
success  vindicated  their  adoption.  His  person  partook  the 
character  of  his  mind  ;  if  the  one  never  yielded  in  the  cabinet, 
the  other  never  bent  in  the  field.  Nature  had  no  obstacle  that 
he  did  not  surmount,  space  no  opposition  that  he  did  not  spurn ; 
and  whether  amid  Alpine  rocks,  Arabian  sands,  or  Polar  snows, 
he  seemed  proof  against  peril,  and  empowered  with  ubiquity. 

The  whole  continent  trembled  at  beholding  the  audacity  of  his 
designs,  and  the  miracle  of  their  execution.  Scepticism  bowed 
to  the  prodigies  of  his  performance  ;  romance  assumed  the  air  of 
history ;  nor  was  there  aught  too  incredible  for  belief,  or  tou 
fanciful  for  expectation,  when  the  world  saw  a  subaltern  of 
Corsica  waving  his  imperial  flag  over  her  most  ancient  capitals. 
All  the  visions  of  antiquity  became  commonplace  in  his  contem- 
plation :  kings  were  his  people,  nations  were  his  outposts ;  and 
he  disposed  of  courts,  and  crowns,  and  camps,  and  churches, 
and  cabinets,  as  if  they  were  titular  dignitaries  of  the  chess- 
board. Amid  all  these  changes  he  stood  immutable  as  ada 
mant. 


Napoleon  at  Rest.  —  Pierpont. 

His  falchion  flashed  along  the  Nile  ; 

His  hosts  he  led  through  Alpine  snows ; 
O'er  Moscow's  towers,  that  blazed  the  while, 

His  eagle  flag  unrolled,  and  froze. 

Here  sleeps  he  now,  alone  :  not  one 
Of  all  the  kings  whose  crowns  he  gave 

Bends  o'er  his  dust,  nor  wife  nor  son 
Has  ever  seen  or  sought  his  grave. 

Behind  this  sea-girt  rock,  the  star 

That  led  him  on  from  crown  to  crown 

Has  sunk  ;  and  nations  from  afar 
Gazed  as  it  faded  and  went  down. 

High  is  his  couch  :  the  ocean  flood, 
Far,  far  below,  by  storms  is  curled  ; 

As  round  him  heaved,  while  high  he  stood 
A  stormy  and  unstable  world. 


CONSEQUENCES   OF   OUR   INDEPENDENCE.  351 

Alone  he  sleeps :  the  mountain  cloud, 

That  night  hangs  round  him,  and  the  breath 
Of  morning  scatters,  is  the  shroud 

That  wraps  the  conqueror's  clay  in  death- 
Pause  here.    The  far  off  world  at  last 

Breathes  free ;  the  hand  that  shook  its  thrones, 
And  to  the  earth  its  miters  cast, 

Lies  powerless  now  beneath  these  stones. 


Consequences  of  our  Independence.— Maxctt. 

While  we  celebrate  the  anniversary  of  our  independence, 
let  us  not  pass  over  in  silence  the  defenders  of  our  country. 
Where  are  those  brave  Americans  whose  lives  were  cloven 
down  in  the  tempest  of  battle  ?  Are  they  not  bending  from  the 
bright  abodes  ?  A  voice  from  the  altar  cries,  "  These  are  they 
who  loved  their  country ;  these  are  they  who  died  for  liberty." 
We  now  reap  the  fruit  of  their  agony  and  toil.  Let  their  mem- 
ories be  eternally  embalmed  in  our  bosoms.  Let  the  infants  of 
all  posterity  prattle  their  fame,  and  drop  tears  of  courage  for 
their  fate. 

The  consequences  of  American  independence  will  soon  reach 
to  the  extremities  of  the  world.  The  shining  car  of  freedom 
will  soon  roll  over  the  necks  of  kings,  and  bear  off  the  oppressed 
to  scenes  of  liberty  and  peace.  The  clamors  of  war  will  cease 
under  the  whole  heaven.  The  tree  of  liberty  will  shoot  its  top 
up  to  the  sun.  Its  boughs  will  hang  over  the  ends  of  the  whole 
world,  and  wearied  nations  will  lie  down  and  rest  under  its 
shade. 

Here,  in  America,  stands  the  asylum  for  the  distressed  and 
persecuted  of  all  nations.  The  vast  temple  of  freedom  rises 
majestically  fair.  Founded  on  a  rock,  it  will  remain  unshaken 
by  the  force  of  tyrants,  undiminished  by  the  flight  of  time. 
Long  streams  of  light  emanate  through  its  portals,  and  chase  the 
darkness  from  distant  nations.  Its  turrets  will  swell  into  the 
heavens,  rising  above  every  tempest ;  and  the  pillar  of  divine 
glory,  descending  from  God,  will  rest  forever  on  its  summit. 


852  ROSS'S   SPEAKER 


Gentleman  and  Irish  Servant. 

( Gentleman  seated  at  a  table ;  Irish  servant  enters,  in  search 

of  employment.) 

Irishman.  (Taking  off  his  hat  and  bowing.)  An' plaze  yer 
honor,  would  ye  be  after  giving  employment  to  a  faithful  ser- 
vant, who  has  been  rekimminded  to  call  upon  yer  honor  ? 

Gentleman.     You    appear   to   have   walked    some    distance 
Does  it  rain  ? 

Ir.     Never  a  drop,  plaze  yer  honor. 

Gent.  (Looking  out  of  window.)  Ah,  I  see  the  sun  shines 
now  ! — post  nubila  Phoebus. 

Ir.     The  post  has  not  yet  arrived,  sir. 

Gent.     What  may  I  call  your  name  ? 

Ir.  My  name  is  Michael  Carnes,  and  1  have  always  been 
called  Mike,  and  you  are  at  liberty  to  call  me  that  same. 

Gent.     Well,  Mike,  who  was  your  last  master  ? 

Ir.  Mr.  Jacobs,  plaze  yer  honor  ;  and  a  nicer  man  never 
brathed. 

Gent.     How  long  did  you  live  with  Mr.  Jacobs  ? 

Ir.  In  troth,  sir,  I  can't  tell.  I  passed  my  time  so  pleasantly 
in  his  sarvice  that  I  niver  kept  any  account  of  it,  at  all,  at  all. 
I  might  have  lived  with  him  all  the  days  of  my  life,  and  a  great 
dale  longer,  if  I  had  plazed  to  do  so. 

Gent.     Why,  then,  did  you  leave  him  ? 

Ir.  It  was  by  mutual  agrament.  The  truth  was,  a  slight 
difference  arose  betwane  us,  and  he  said  J  hould  not  live  with 
him  longer  ;  and  at  the  same  instant,  you  see,  I  declared  I 
would  not  live  with  him ;  so  we  parted  on  good  terms  —  by 
agrament,  you  see. 

Gent.     Was  not  your  master  a  proud  man  ? 

Ir.  Indade  he  was,  bless  his  honest  sowl  1  he  would  not  do 
a  mane  act  for  the  univarse. 

Gent.     Well,  Mike,  how  old  are  you  now  ? 

Ir.  I  am  just  the  same  age  of  Patrick  O'Leary  ;  he  and  I 
were  born  the  same  wake. 

Gent.     And  how  old  is  he  ? 

Ir.  He  is  just  my  age.  He  and  I  are  just  of  an  age,  you 
see,  only  one  of  us  is  older  than  the  other ;  but  which  is  the 
oldest  I  can  not  say,  neither  can  Patrick. 

Gent.     Were  you  born  in  Dublin  ? 

Ir.  No,  sir,  plaze  yer  honor,  though  I  might  have  been  if  I 
had  desired  ;  but  as  I  always  preferred  the  country,  I  was  born 


FRENCHMAN   AND   HIS   ENGLISH   TUTOR.  353 

there  ;  and,  plaze  God,  if  I  live  and  do  well  I'll  be  buried  in  the 
same  parish  I  was  born  in. 

Gent.     You  can  write,  I  suppose. 

Ir.     Yes,  sir  ;  as  fast  as  a  dog  can  trot. 

Gent.     What  is  the  usual  mode  of  travelling  in  Ireland  ? 

Ir.  Why,  sir,  if  you  travel  by  water  you  must  take  a  boat ; 
and  if  you  travel  by  land,  either  in  a  chaise  or  on  horseback  ; 
and  they  who  can  not  afford  either  of  them  are  obliged  to  trudge 
it  on  foot,  which,  to  my  mind,  is  decidedly  the  safest  and  chapest 
mode  of  moving  about. 

Gent.     And  which  is  the  pleasantest  season  for  travelling  ? 

Ir.  Faith,  sir,  I  think  that  season  in  which  a  man  has  most 
money  in  his  pocket. 

Gent.     I  think  your  roads  are  passably  good. 

Ir.     They  are  all  quite  passable  if  you  only  pay  the  tollman. 

Gent.     I  understand  you  have  many  black  cattle  in  Ireland. 

Ir.     Faith,  we  have  plenty  of  every  color. 

Gent.     I  think  you  have  too  much  rain  in  your  country. 

Ir.  So  every  one  says  ;  but  Sir  Boyle  has  promised  to  bring 
in  an  act  of  Parliament  in  favor  or  fair  weather,  and  I  am  sure 
the  poor  hay-makers  and  turf-cutters  will  bless  him  for  it.  It 
was  he  that  first  proposed  that  every  quart  bottle  should  hold 
just  two  pints. 

Gent.  As  you  have  many  fine  rivers,  I  suppose  you  have  an 
abundance  of  nice  fish. 

Ir.  And  well  may  you  say  that,  for  water  never  wet  better 
ones.  Why,  master,  I  won't  tell  you  a  lie  ;  but  if  you  were  at 
the  Boyne  you  could  get  salmon  and  trout  for  nothing,  and  if 
you  were  at  Ballyshanny  you'd  get  them  for  much  less. 

Gent.  Well,  you  seem  to  be  a  clever  fellow,  and  if  you  will 
call  again  to-morrow  I  will  see  what  I  can  do  for  you. 

Ir.  Pace  to  your  good  sowl  !  1  will  surely  do  so.  {Bowing, 
leaves.) 


Frenchman  and  his  English  Tutor. 

Frenchman.     Ila,  my  good  friend  !     1  have  met  with  one  dif 
ficulty  —  one  ver'  strange  word.     How  you  call  h-o-u-g-h,  ha? 

Tutor.     H-O-u-g-h  spells  huff. 

Fr.     Ver'  good,  huff ;  and  snuff —  him  what  you  put  in  dc 
nose  —  you  spell  B-n-o  u-g-h,  ha  ? 

Tu.    O,  no,  no!     S-n-u-double-f  spells  snuff.     The  truth  is 
word*  endii  ^  in  ough  are  not  very  regular  in  their  pronunciation 


354  ROSS'S   SPEAKKR. 

Fr.  Ah,  ver'  good  !  'Tis  beau'ful  language!  H-o-ug-h  ii 
huff.  I  will  remember  him.  And  c-o-u-g-h  is  cvff.  I  have  one 
bad  cvff,  ha  ? 

Tu.     No,  that  is  wrong.     We  say  kauf  not  cuff. 

Fr.  Kauf?  Ver' well.  Huff  and  kauf  me  no  forget ;  and, 
pardon  me,  how  you  call  him  what  makes  bread  with  — 
d-o-u-g-h,  duff,  ha  ? 

Tu.     No,  not  duff. 

Fr.     Not  duff  ?     Ah,  monsieur,  I  understand ;  it  is  dauf  ha  ? 

Tu.     No  ;  d-o-u-g-h  spells  doe. 

Fr.  Doe  1  Ver'  fine  language,  sure  !  wonderful  language  ! 
D-o-u-g-h  is  doe,  and  t-o-u-g-h  is  toe,  certainment.  The  bread 
19  made  of  doe,  and  my  beefsteak  is  very  toe,  ha  ? 

Tu.     O,  no,  no  !     You  should  say  tuff  and  not  toe. 

Fr.  Tuff?  Then  him  what  the  farmer  uses,  what  you  call 
him,  p-1-o-u-g-h — pluff?  ha?  no?  Me  no  get  him  right?  Is 
his  name  ploe,  like  doe  ?     One  ver'  fine  ploe,  ha  ? 

Tu.    You  are  still  wrong,  my  friend.     P-1-o-u-g-h  spells  plow. 

Fr.  Plow !  ha  ?  Ver'  wonderful  language  !  Me  understand 
him  ver'  soon.  Plow,  doe,  kauf  and  tuff.  Then  one  more, 
r-o-u-g-h  ;  what  you  call  General  Taylor,  —  rauf  and  ready, 
ha  ?     No  ;  certainment,  then,  it  must  be  row  and  ready,  ha  ? 

Tu.     No,     R-o-u-g-h  spells  ruff. 

Fr.  Ruff,  ha  ?  Let  me  not  forget  him.  R-o-u-g-h  is  ruff, 
and  b-o-u-g-h  is  buff,  ha  ? 

Tu.     No  ;  bow,  and  not  buff. 

Fr.  Ver'  wonderful  language,  sure  !  And  what  you  call 
t-h-r-o-u-g-h  ?  —  throw  ?  or  thruff?  or  what  you  call  him  ? 

Tu.     T-h-r-o-u-g-h  spells  thru. 

Fr.  Ah,  'tis  ver'  simple,  sure  !  —  wonderful  language  !  but  1 
have  had  e-n-o-u-g-h  ;  what  you  call  him,  ha  ? 

Tu.  Enuff.  But  that  you  may  not  forget  these  terminations, 
it  may  be  well  for  you  to  write  them  as  I  spell  and  pronounce 
them. 

{Tutor  spells  and  Frenchman  writes  as folloics.) 

H-o-u-g-h.  Huff.  —  C-o-u-g-h.  Kauf  —  P-1-o-u-g-h.  Plow. 
—  D-o-u-g-h.  Doe.  —  R-o-u-g-h.  Ruff.  —  S-1-o-u-g-h.  Slou 
und  Sluf  —  L-o-u-g-h.  Lok.  —T-h-r-o-u-g-h.  Thru.  —T-o-u-g-h. 
Tuf  —  T-h-o-r-o-u-g-h.  Thur-ro.  —  B-o-u-g-h.  Bow.  —  H-i-c- 
c-o-u-g-h.  Hik'kup.  —  B-o-r-o-u-g-h.  Bur-o.  —  T  r-o-u-g-h. 
Trof  —  E-n-o-u-g-h.     Enuf. — F-u-r-1-o-u-g-h.     Fur-U> 

Fr.  Enuff,  sure !  Ver'  strange  language !  You  certain- 
ment have  given  me  e-n-o-u-g-h  for  dis  one  lesson,  and  now  I 
will  take  what  de  soldiers  call  one  f-u-r-1-o-u-g-h. 


A   PLEA   FOR  THE   ANCIENT   LANGUAGES.         355 


A  Plea  for  the  Ancient  Languages 

New  Orleans  Ceeole. 

The  studies  of  youth  are  the  mere  training  of  the  mind  for 
the  contests  in  which  it  is  afterwards  to  mingle.  They  are  not 
the  race,  but  the  preparation  for  it ;  and  where  can  living  waters 
that  may  refresh  and  invigorate  be  drawn  from  richer  fountains 
than  the  mountain  springs  of  classic  literature  ?  Where  can 
poetry,  at  once  the  cause  and  the  indication  of  a  nation's  feelings, 
gaze  with  more  inspired  admiration  than  at  that  wonderful  mon- 
ument of  human  genius,  the  poems  of  Homer  ?  that  monument, 
which,  erected  in  an  age  almost  unknown,  has  withstood  the 
assaults  of  time  and  skill,  and  towers  above  all  modern  efforts, 
the  first  and  most  exalted  of  its  kind  ?  Who  can  dwell  upon  his 
glowing  pages,  and  not  catch  some  portion  of  that  light,  which, 
dispersed  in  thousands  and  tens  of  thousands  of  channels,  has 
rilled  the  world  with  bright  images  and  illustrious  thoughts  ? 
Who  can  read  and  study  him,  and  not  find  his  own  soul  enlarged 
by  every  splendid  achievement,  by  every  lofty  sentiment,  by  the 
wisdom  of  the  old  and  the  "  daring  of  the  young,"  the  filial  piety 
and  devoted  friendship  that  breathe,  live,  and  move  in  this 
matchless  work  ? 

Who  can  stand  in  the  presence  of  Plato,  and  not  find  his  mind 
elevated  by  the  teachings,  with  all  their  errors,  of  this  wonderful 
man?  Plato  —  of  whom  his  admiring  countrymen  said,  "The 
father  of  the  gods,  had  he  spoken  in  Greek,  would  have  read  no 
other  language  than  Plato's."  Plato  —  of  whose  unrivaled  works 
it  has  been  beautifully  said,  "  We  stand  as  in  a  vast  and  con- 
nected fabric,  vistas  and  aisles  of  thought  opening  on  every  side 
—  high  thoughts  that  raise  the  mind  to  heaven ;  pillars  and 
arches  ranged  in  seeming  confusion,  and  a  veil  of  tracery  and 
foliage  thrown  over  all  ;  but  all  rich  with  a  light,  streaming 
through  dim  religious  forms;  all  leading  up  to  God;  all  blessed 
with  an  effluence  from  him,  —  though  an  effluence  dimmed  and 
half  lost  in  the  contaminated  reason  of  man. 

Who  can,  in  imagination,  become  one  of  the  audience  of  that 
mighty  tragic  triumvirate,  whose  productions  are  still  dear  to 
every  scholar,  and  not  find  his  mind  enlarged  and  strength  given 
to  the  wings  of  his  own  thoughts  by  the  energy  of  ./Eschylus, 
the  grace  of  Sophocles,  the  tenderness  and  pathos  of  the  brilliant 
although  unequal  Euripides  ?  Where  can  the  patriot  find  purer 
principles  of  freedom  than  those  which  journey  through  the 
pages  of  ancient   literature  as  its  companions   and   its  guidea? 


356  KOSS'S   SPEAKER. 

When  did  the  accents  of  liberty  roll  upon  the  tongue  with  a 
more  commanding  and  pervading  influence  than  in  the  vehement, 
yet  chastened,  philippics  of  Demosthenes,  the  flowery,  the  pol- 
ished, yet  terrible,  denunciations  of  Cicero  ?  Who  can  behold 
the  one,  in  that  fierce  democracy  of  Athens,  —  and  yet  not  more 
fierce  in  their  passions  than  tyrannous  in  their  critical  judgment, 
—  raised  by  his  eloquence  from  capitulating  fears,  and  with  a 
withering  sneer  led  against  the  "  man  of  Macedon,"  or  dwell 
upon  the  terrible  invectives  of  the  other  against  a  Catiline,  a 
Verres,  or  a  Clodius,  and  not  bow  before  the  majesty  of  their 
genius,  and  find  his  own  powers  exalted  by  the  very  homage  he 
is  paying  ? 

Where  can  more  beautiful  treatises  on  all  that  can  assuage 
the  evils  of  life,  or  purer  rules  of  conduct,  apart  from  revelation, 
be  found,  than  those  which,  composed  in  hours  stolen  from  the 
cares  and  tumults  of  life,  were  devoted  to  "  friendship "  and 
w  old  age ; "  the  glowing  songs  of  Pindar,  who  "  harnessed  for 
•.he  conqueror  the  chariot  of  the  Muses ; "  the  gayety,  the  grace 
of  polished  Horace  ;  the  "  pictured  page  "  of  Livy ;  the  annals 
of  Tacitus  ;  the  majestic  dignity  of  Virgil,  yet  painting  with  inimi- 
table tenderness  the  pure,  devoted,  life-sacrificing  friendship  of 
Nisus  and  Euryalus  ? 

"  Me,  me  adsum  qui  feci  —  in  me 
Convertite  ferrum." 

We  care  not  that  in  after  life  these  early  studies  may  be  for 
gotten.  We  care  not  though  even  the  characters  in  which  they 
were  written  become  a  dead  letter  to  us,  and  their  matchless 
diction  as  a  sealed  book  ;  the  deep  and  noble  feelings  which 
their  fervent  study  once  excited  have  purified  the  heart  that  was 
even  their  temporary  habitation,  and  left  an  impress  upon  our 
thoughts  which  no  forgetfulness  can  efface. 


Defalcation  and  Retrenchment.  —  s.  s.  Prentiss, 

Since  the  avowal,  Mr.  Chairman,  of  that  unprincipled  and 
barbarian  motto,  that  "  to  the  victors  belong  the  spoils,"  office, 
which  was  intended  for  the  service  and  benefit  of  the  people, 
has  become  but  the  plunder  of  party.  Patronage  is  waved  like 
a  huge  magnet  over  the  land ;  and  demagogues,  like  iron  filings, 
attracted  by  a  law  of  their  nature,  gather  and  cluster  around  its 
poles.     Never  yet   lived   the  demagogue  who  would    not    .ake 


DEFALCATION  AND  RETRENCHMENT.      35: 

office.  The  whole  frame  of  our  government  —  all  the  institu- 
tions of  the  country  —  are  thus  prostituted  to  the  uses  of  party. 
Office  is  conferred  as  the  reward  of  partisan  service ;  and  what 
is  the  consequence  ?  The  incumbents,  being  taught  that  all 
moneys  in  their  possession  belong,  not  to  the  people,  but  to  the 
party,  it  requires  but  small  exertion  of  casuistry  to  bring  them  to 
the  conclusion  that  they  have  a  right  to  retain  what  they  may 
conceive  to  be  the  value  of  their  political  services  ;  just  as  a 
lawyer  holds  back  his  commissions. 

Sir,  I  have  given  you  but  three  or  four  cases  of  defalcations. 
Would  time  permit,  I  could  give  you  a  hundred.  Like  the  fair 
sultana  of  the  Oriental  legends,  I  could  go  on  for  a  thousand  and 
one  nights  ;  and  even  as  in  those  Eastern  stories,  so  in  the 
chronicles  of  the  office  holders,  the  tale  would  ever  be  of  heaps 
of  gold,  massive  ingots,  uncounted  riches.  Why,  sir,  Aladdin's 
wonderful  lamp  was  nothing  to  it.  They  seem  to  possess  the 
identical  cap  of  Fortunatus.  Some  wish  for  fifty  thousand  do.- 
lars,  some  for  a  hundred  thousand,  and  some  for  a  million,  — 
and  behold,  it  lies  in  glittering  heaps  before  them !     Not  even 

••  The  gorgeous  East,  -with  richest  hand, 
Showers  on  her  kings  barbaric  pearl  and  gold  " 

in  such  lavish  abundance,  as  does  this  administration  upon  its 
followers.  Pizarro  held  not  forth  more  dazzling  lures  to  his 
robber  band  when  he  led  them  to  the  conquest  of  the  "  Children 
of  the  Sun." 

And  now  it  is  proposed  to  make  up  these  losses  through  de- 
faulters by  retrenchment.  And  what  do  you  suppose  are  to  be 
the  subjects  of  this  new  and  sudden  economy  ?  What  branches 
of  the  public  service  are  to  be  lopped  off*  on  account  of  the  licen- 
tious rapacity  of  the  office  holders  ?  I  am  too  indignant  to  tell 
you.  Look  into  the  report  of  the  secretary  of  the  treasury,  and 
you  will  find  out.  Well,  sir,  what  are  they  ?  Pensions,  harbors, 
and  lighthouses!  Yes,  sir ;  these  are  recommended  as  proper 
subjects  for  retrenchment.  First  of  all,  the  scarred  veterans  of 
the  revolution  are  to  be  deprived  of  a  portion  of  the  scanty  pit- 
tance doled  out  to  them  by  the  cold  charity  of  the  country. 
How  many  of  them  will  you  have  to  send  forth  as  beggars  on 
the  very  soil  whicli  they  wrenched  from  the  hand  of  tyranny,  to 
make  up  the  amount  of  oven  one  of  these  splendid  robberies  ? 
How  many  harbors  will  it  take,  —  those  improvements  dedicated 
DO  less  to  humanity  than  to  interest, —  those  nests  of  commerce 
to  which  the  canvas-winged  birds  of  the  ocean  flock  for  safety? 
How  many  lighthouses  will  it  take?      How  many  of  those  bright 


358  ROSS'S   SPEAKER. 

eyes  of  the  ocean  are  to  be  put  out  ?  How  many  of  those  faith* 
ful  sentinels  who  stand  along  our  rocky  coast,  and,  peering  fat 
out  in  the  darkness,  give  timely  warning  to  the  hardy  mariner 
where  tne  lee  shore  threatens,  —  how  many  of  these,  I  ask,  are 
to  be  discharged  from  their  humane  service  ?  Why,  the  propo- 
sition is  almost  impious.  1  should  as  soon  wish  to  put  out  t?e 
stars  of  heaven.  Sir,  my  blood  boils  at  the  cold-blooded  atrocity 
with  which  the  administration  proposes  thus  to  sacrifice  the  very 
family  jewels  of  the  country  to  pay  for  the  consequences  of  its 
own  profligacy. 


The  South  during  the  War  of  1812.  —  hayne, 

I  come  now  to  the  war  of  1812  ;  a  war  which,  I  well  re- 
member, was  called,  in  derision,  (while  its  event  was  doubtful,) 
the  Southern  war,  and  sometimes  the  Carolina  war,  but  which  is 
now  universally  acknowledged  to  have  done  more  for  the  honor 
and  prosperity  of  the  country  than  all  other  events  in  our  history 
put  together.  What,  sir,  were  the  objects  of  that  war  ?  "  Free 
trade  and  sailors'  rights."  It  was  for  the  protection  of  northern 
shipping  and  New  England  seamen  that  the  country  flew  to 
arms.  What  interest  had  the  South  in  that  contest  ?  If  they 
had  sat  down  coldly  to  calculate  the  value  of  their  interests 
involved  in  it,  they  would  have  found  that  they  had  every  thing 
to  lose,  and  nothing  to  gain.  But,  sir,  with  that  generous  devo- 
tion to  country  so  characteristic  of  the  South,  they  only  asked  if 
the  rights  of  any  portion  of  their  fellow -citizens  had  been 
invaded  ;  and  when  told  that  northern  ships  and  New  England 
seamen  had  been  arrested  on  the  common  highway  of  nations, 
they  felt  that  the  honor  of  their  country  was  assailed  ;  and, 
acting  on  that  exalted  sentiment  "  which  feels  a  stain  like  a 
wound,"  they  resolved  to  seek,  in  open  war,  for  a  redress  of 
those  injuries  which  it  did  not  become  freemen  to  endure. 

Sir,  the  whole  South,  animated  as  by  a  common  impulse,  cor- 
dially united  in  declaring  and  promoting  that  war.  South  Caro- 
lina sent  to  your  councils,  as  the  advocates  and  supporters  of 
that  war,  the  noblest  of  her  sons.  How  they  fulfilled  that  trust 
let  a  grateful  country  tell.  Not  a  measure  was  adopted,  not  a 
battle  fought,  not  a  victory  won,  which  contributed,  in  any  de- 
gree, to  the  success  of  that  war,  to  which  southern  councils  and 
southern  valor  did  not  largely  contribute.  Sir,  since  South 
Carolina  is  assailed,  I  must  be  suffered  to  speak  it  to  her  praise, 
'hat   at   the   very  moment  when,   in   one   quarter    we   heard   it 


AN    EXCUSE.  359 

solemnly  proclaimed  "  that  it  did  not  become  a  religious  and 
moral  people  to  rejoice  at  the  victories  of  our  army  or  our 
navy,"  her  legislature  unanimously 

"  Resolved,  That  we  will  cordially  support  the  government  in 
the  vigorous  prosecution   of  the  war,  until  a  peace  can   be   ob 
tained  on    honorable  terms ;  and  we  will  cheerfully  submit  to 
every  privation  that  may  be  required  of  us,  by  our  government 
for  the  accomplishment  of  this  object." 

South  Carolina  redeemed  that  pledge.  She  threw  open  her 
treasury  to  the  government.  She  put  at  the  absolute  disposal  of 
the  officers  of  the  United  States  all  that  she  possessed  —  her  men, 
her  money,  and  her  arms.  She  appropriated  half  a  million  of 
dollars,  on  her  own  account,  in  defense  of  her  maritime  frontier  ; 
ordered  a  brigade  of  state  troops  to  be  raised ;  and,  when  left 
to  protect  herself  by  her  own  means,  never  suffered  the  enemy 
to  touch  her  soil  without  being  instantly  driven  off  or  captured. 
Such,  sir,  was  the  conduct  of  the  South  —  such  the  conduct  of 
my  own  state  —  in  that  dark  hour  "  which  tried  men's  souls !  " 


An  Excuse.  —  E.  W.  C.  —  Normal  School. 

And  so  Wednesday  morning  has  come  again,  but  with  it  no 
composition,  and  I  shall  be  obliged  to  do  what  I  have  never  done 
before  —  ask  to  be  excused,  although  1  know,  when  the  difficul- 
ties under  which  I  labor  are  understood,  my  omission  to  write 
this  week  will  be  considered  entirely  pardonable. 

The  matter  can  be  explained  in  a  few  words.  I  have  nightly, 
for  the  last  two  weeks,  seated  myself  at  my  table  with  the  full 
intent  of  inditing  a  long,  sound,  well-worded,  beautifully  written, 
dovetailed  composition,  but  have  as  regularly  overturned  the 
inkstand,  slammed  the  books  and  slates  together,  and  gone  to 
bed  in  a  towering  passion. 

The  cause  of  all  this  trouble  is,  the  addition  to  the  family  of 
our  next  neighbor  of  some  musical  instrument,  of  unknown  con- 
struction and  excruciating  power.  I  am  not  certain  whether  it 
is  an  accordeon  or  a  hand  organ,  a  banjo  or  a  piano-forte  ;  but 
on''  thing  I  do  know  —  it  is  a  certain  something  which  is  stamped 
upon  rnv  mind  as  intermediate  between  a  hurdy-gurdy  and  a 
frying-pan  :  a  certain  something  which,  if  I  had  the  honor  of 
naming,  I  would  call  a  hurdij-gurdt/- frying-pan-olio. 

If,  perchance,  a  stray  idea,  in  its  wanderings,  alights  upon  my 
Drain,  n  fresh  note  from  my  uriKnown  tormentor,  resembling  the 


.160  ROSS'S   SPEAKER. 

cadence  arising  from  some  swamp  in  spring  time,  frightens  it 
forever  away.  Now,  I  think  I  have  the  initiatory  sentence  per- 
fected, when  a  strain  of  "  Yankee  Doodle "  or  "  Old  Dan 
Tucker  "  sweeps  across  my  auditories,  leaving  memory  as  bare 
as  the  sands  of  Arabia.  Then  I  attempt  to  raise  my  thoughts 
above  "  the  dull  regions  of  sense ; "  but  suddenly  the  tune  changes, 
and  a  voice  accompanies  the  instrument, 

"  So  mournfully  and  low, 
A  ballad  of  a  tender  maid  heart-broken  long  ago  !  " 

1  listen  with  the  most  eager  attention  to  the  consummation  of  the 
piece,  and  the  happy  couple  are  comfortably  established  in  an 
orange  bower  ;  and  so  goes  my  composition. 

Thus  I  have  passed  a  great  part  of  my  time  lately ;  and  I  veri- 
ly  believed  the  cup  of  my  affliction  to  be  full.  But  not  so.  A 
few  days  since  a  tailor  took  up  his  residence  on  the  other  side 
of  me,  and  a  tailor,  too,  who  is  as  unlike  Charles  Lamb's  tailors 
as  could  well  be  imagined  ;  for  he  will  sit  cross-legged  for  hours 
together,  his  voice  now  swelling  out  into  fortissimo,  and  then 
contracting  to  that  point  where  "  nothing  could  live  betwixt  it 
and  silence." 

But  this  morning  I  thought  to  steal  a  march  upon  all  the  per- 
formers ;  so  I  started  my  composition  about  five  o'clock.  After 
writing  some  two  and  a  half  lines,  that  eternal  instrument  again 
started  off  on  one  of  its  old  tunes.     Well,  I  stopped,  of  course. 

Having  thus  briefly  related  a  few  of  my  difficulties,  I  hope  to 
be  excused  from  writing  a  composition  this  week. 


Eulogy  on    Candle  Light.  —  Charles  Lamb. 

Hail,  candle  light !  without  disparagement  to  sun  or  moon. 
the  kindliest  luminary  of  the  three  ;  if  we  may  not  rather  style 
thee  their  radiant  deputy,  mild  viceroy  of  the  moon  !  We  love  to 
read,  talk,  sit  silent,  eat,  drink,  sleep,  by  candle  light.  It  is  every 
body's  sun  and  moon  :  it  is  our  peculiar  and  household  planet. 
Wanting  it,  what  savage,  unsocial  nights  must  our  ancestors 
have  spent,  wintering  in  caves  and  unilluminated  fastnesses  ! 
They  must  have  lain  about,  and  grumbled  at  one  another  in  the 
dark.  What  repartees  could  have  passed,  when  you  must  have 
felt  about  for  a  smile,  and  handled  a  neighbor's  cheek,  to  be  sure 
that  he  understood  it  ?     This  accounts  for  the  seriouspess  of  th* 


KTJLOGY   ON    CANDLE   LIGHT.  361 

elder  poetry.  It  has  a  somber  cast,  derived  from  the  tradition 
of  those  unlanterned  nights. 

Jokes  came  in  with  candles.  We  wonder  how  they  saw  to 
pick  up  a  pin,  if  they  had  any.  How  did  they  sup  ?  What  a 
medley  of  chance-carving  they  must  have  made  of  it !  There  is 
neither  good  eating  nor  drinking  in  the  dark.  The  senses  give 
and  take  reciprocally.  Can  you  tell  veal  from  pork  without 
light  ?  or  distinguish  Sherry  from  pure  Malaga  ?  Take  away  the 
candle  from  the  smoking  man  ;  by  the  glimmering  of  the  left 
ashes,  he  knows  that  he  is  still  smoking ;  but  he  knows  it  enly  by 
an  inference,  till  the  restored  light,  coming  in  to  the  aid  of  the 
olfactories,  reveals  to  both  senses  the  full  aroma.  Then  how  he 
redoubles  his  puffs  !  how  he  burnishes  ! 

There  is  absolutely  no  such  thing  as  reading,  but  by  a  candle. 
We  have  tried  the  affectation  of  a  book  at  noonday  in  gardens 
and  in  sultry  arbors ;  but  it  was  labor  thrown  away.  Those  gay 
motes  in  the  beam  come  about  you,  hovering  and  teasing,  like 
so  many  coquettes,  that  will  have  you  all  to  their  self,  and  are 
jealous  of  your  abstractions.  By  the  midnight  taper  the  wri- 
ter digests  his  meditations.  By  the  same  light  you  must 
approach  to  their  perusal,  if  you  would  catch  the  flame,  the 
odor.  It  is  a  mockery,  all  that  is  reported  of  the  influential 
Phcebus.*  No  true  poem  ever  owed  its  birth  to  the  sun'->  light. 
They  are  abstracted  works, — 

"  Things  that  were  born  when  none  but  the  still  night 
And  his  dumb  candle  saw  his  pinching  throes." 

Daylight  may  furnish  the  images,  the  crude  material  ;  but  for 
the  fine  shapings,  the  true  turning  and  filing,  they  must  be  con- 
tent to  hold  their  inspiration  of  the  candle.  The  mild,  internal 
light  that  reveals  them,  like  fires  on  the  domestic  hearth,  goes 
out  in  the  sunshine.  Night  and  silence  call  out  the  starry  fan- 
cies. Milton's  morning  hymn,  we  would  hold  a  good  wager, 
was  penned  at  midnight ;  and  Taylor's  richer  description  of  a 
sunrise  smells  decidedly  of  a  taper.  Even  ourself,  in  these  our 
humbler  iucubrations,  tune  our  best  measured  cadences,  (prose 
has  her  cadences,)  not  unfrequently  to  the  charm  of  the  drowsy 
watchman,  "  blessing  the  doors,"  or  the  wild  sweep  of  winds  at 
midnight.  Even  now,  a  loftier  speculation  than  we  have  yet 
attempted  courts  our  endeavors.  We  would  indite  something 
about  the  solar  system.     Betty,  bring  the  candles. 

•  The  Sun. 


362  ROSS'S  SPEAKER. 


The  Patriots  Ambition.  —  Clay, 

I  have  been  accused  of  ambition  in  presenting  this  measure 
Ambition  !  inordinate  ambition !  If  I  had  thought  of  myself 
only,  I  should  have  never  brought  it  forward.  I  know  well 
the  perils  to  which  I  expose  myself;  the  risk  of  alienating  faith- 
ful and  valued  friends,  with  but  little  prospect  of  making  new 
ones,  if  any  new  ones  could  compensate  for  the  loss  of  those 
whom  we  have  long  tried  and  loved ;  and  the  honest  misconcep- 
tions both  of  friends  and  foes.  Ambition  !  If  I  had  listened  to 
its  soft  and  seducing  whispers,  if  I  had  yielded  myself  to  the 
dictates  of  a  cold,  calculating,  and  prudential  policy,  I  would 
have  stood  still  and  unmoved.  I  might  even  have  silently  gazed 
on  the  raging  storm,  enjoyed  its  loudest  thunders,  and  left 
those  who  are  charged  with  the  care  of  the  vessel  of  state  to 
conduct  it  as  they  could.  I  have  been  heretofore  often  unjustly 
accused  of  ambition.  Low,  groveling  souls,  who  are  utterly 
incapable  of  elevating  themselves  to  the  higher  and  nobler  duties 
of  pure  patriotism,  —  beings  who,  forever  keeping  their  own  self- 
ish aims  in  view,  decide  all  public  measures  by  their  presumed 
influence  on  their  aggrandizement, — judge  me  by  the  venal  rule 
which  they  prescribe  to  themselves. 

I  have  given  to  the  winds  those  false  accusations,  as  I  consign 
that  which  now  impeaches  my  motives.  I  have  no  desire  for 
office,  not  even  the  highest.  The  most  exalted  is  but  a  prison, 
in  which  the  incarcerated  incumbent  daily  receives  his  cold, 
heartless  visitants,  marks  his  weary  hours,  and  is  cut  off  from 
the  practical  enjoyment  of  all  the  blessings  of  genuine  freedom. 
I  am  no  candidate  for  any  office  in  the  gift  of  the  people  of  these 
states,  united  or  separated  :  I  never  wish,  never  expect  to  be. 
Pass  this  bill,  tranquillize  the  country,  restore  confidence  and 
affection  in  the  Union,  and  I  am  willing  to  go  home  to  Ashland, 
and  renounce  public  service  forever.  I  should  there  find,  in  its 
groves,  under  its  shades,  on  its  lawns,  amidst  my  flocks  and 
herds,  in  the  bosom  of  my  family,  sincerity  and  truth,  attach- 
ment, and  fidelity,  and  gratitude,  which  I  have  not  always  found 
in  the  walks  of  public  life.  Yes,  I  have  ambition ;  but  it  is  the 
ambition  of  being  the  humble  instrument,  in  the  hands  of  Provi- 
dence, to  reconcile  a  divided  people ;  once  more  to  revive  con- 
cord and  harmony  in  a  distracted  land  ;  the  pleasing  ambition  of 
contemplating  the  glorious  spectacle  of  a  free,  united,  prosper- 
ous, and  fraternal  p  >ople. 


THE   CONSEQUENCES   OF    DISUNION.  363 


The   Consequences  of  Disunion.  —  Clat, 

South  Carolina  must  perceive  the  embarrassments  of  her 
situation.  She  must  be  desirous — it  is  unnatural  to  suppose 
that  she  is  not  —  to  remain  in  the  Union.  What !  a  state  whose 
heroes  in  its  gallant  ancestry  fought  so  many  glorious  battles 
along  with  those  of  the  other  states  of  this  Union  —  a  state  with 
which  this  confederacy  is  linked  by  bonds  of  such  a  powerful 
character  ! 

I  have  sometimes  fancied  what  would  be  her  condition  if  she 
goes  out  of  this  Union  —  if  her  five  hundred  thousand  people 
should  at  once  be  thrown  upon  their  own  resources.  She  is  out 
of  the  Union.  What  is  the  consequence  ?  She  is  an  independ- 
ent power.  What  then  does  she  do  ?  She  must  have  armies 
and  fleets,  and  an  expensive  government  —  have  foreign  mis- 
sions—  she  must  raise  taxes  —  enact  this  very  tariff,  which  had 
driven  her  out  of  the  Union,  in  order  to  enable  her  to  raise 
money,  and  to  sustain  the  attitude  of  an  independent  power.  If 
she  should  have  no  force,  no  navy  to  protect  her,  she  would  be 
exposed  to  piratical  incursions.  Her  neighbor,  St.  Domingo, 
might  pour  down  a  horde  of  pirates  on  her  borders,  and  desolate 
her  plantations.  She  must  have  her  embassies ;  therefore  must 
she  have  a  revenue. 

But  I  will  not  dwell  on  this  topic  any  longer.  I  say  it  is 
utterly  impossible  that  South  Carolina  ever  desired,  for  a  mo- 
ment, to  become  a  separate  and  independent  state.  1  would 
repeat  that,  under  all  the  circumstances  of  the  case,  the  condition 
of  South  Carolina  is  only  one  of  the  elements  of  a  combination, 
the  whole  of  which  together  constitutes  a  motive  of  action  which 
renders  it  expedient  to  resort,  during  the  present  session  of  Con- 
gress, to  some  measure,  in  order  to  quiet  and  tranquilize  the 
country. 

If  theri  be  any  who  want  civil  war,  who  want  to  see  the 
blood  of  any  portion  of  our  countrymen  spilt,  I  am  not  one  of 
then.  :  I  wish  to  see  war  of  no  kind  ;  but  above  all  do  I  not  desire  to 
see  a  civil  war.  When  war  begins,  whether  civil  or  foreign,  no 
human  foresight  is  competent  to  foresee  when,  or  how,  or  where 
it  is  to  terminate.  But  when  a  civil  war  shall  be  lighted  up  in 
the  bosom  of  our  own  happy  land,  and  armies  are  marching,  and 
commanders  are  winning  their  victories,  and  fleets  are  in  motion 
on  our  coast,  —  tell  me,  if  you  can,  tell  me,  if  any  human  being 
can  tell,  its  duration.  God  alone  knows  where  such  a  wai 
will  end. 


864  ROSS'S   SPEAKER. 


Incidents  of  Travel.  —  Maj  oh  Jonrs. 

I'd  hearn  a  great  deal  about  steam  ingins ;  but  if  the  Sen* 
mynole  ingins  is  any  uglier  or  frightfuler  than  they  is,  I  don' 
wonder  nobody  wants  to  tack  'em.  Why,  sich  other  cog  wheeis, 
cranks,  and  conflutements  I  never  did  see ;  and  then  they's  so 
spiteful,  and  makes  the  fire  fly  so  !  I  couldn't  help  feelin  sort  o1 
skeered  of  it  all  the  time,  and  I  wouldn't  been  that  feller  what 
rid  on  top  of  the  critter,  and  fed  and  watered  it,  not  for  no  con- 
siderashun.  I  was  lookin  round  it  a  little,  to  try  to  git  the  hang 
of  it,  when  the  feller  just  touched  one  of  the  fixins,  and  feugh-h-h  ! 
it  went  right  in  my  ear,  and  like  to  blowd  my  brains  out  with  hot 
steam.  "  My  eyes !  "  ses  I,  "  mister,  what  made  it  do  that  ?  " 
'  O,  it  was  jest  blowin  its  nose,"  ses  he ;  and  he  tuck  hold  of 
another  thing,  and  the  infurnel  critter  set  up  a  yell  like  a  panther 
with  a  grindstone  on  his  tale.  Thunderation,  how  the  steem  did 
fly  !  enufTto  blow  all  creation  to  Ballyhack.  "  All  aboard,"  ses 
the  man  ;  the  bell  tapped,  and  in  bout  a  minit  every  body  was 
stowed  away  and  waitin.  Chug,  went  sumthing,  and  away  I  goes 
rite  over  the  back  of  the  seat  —  it  jerked  once  more,  and  then  it 
began  to  go.  Chow,  chow,  chow  —  chew,  chew,  chew  —  che, 
che,  chit-tu,  chit-to,  fit-te,  fit,  fit,  fit,  cher-r-r-r-r ;  and  the  whole 
bilin  of  us  was  gwine  a  long  with  a  perfect  whiz ;  and  the  way 
the  fire  flew  was  miracelus  —  grate  big  sparks  now  and  then 
dodgin  all  round  a  feller's  face  like  a  yaller  jacket,  and  then 
drappin  rite  down  in  his  busum.  For  sum  time  it  would  tuck 
three  men  to  watch  the  sparks  of  one,  and  they  couldn't. 

Well,  we  went  hummin  along  jest  like  iled  thunder,  makin 
more  noise  nor  a  dozen  cotten  gins  all  gwine  at  once,  only  stop- 
pin  now  and  then  to  pile  on  lighterd  and  fill  up  the  bilers,  and  to 
drap  a  feller  here  and  thar  on  the  rode.  They  was  the  sleepyest 
set  of  folks  abroad  that  ever  I  did  see.  Thar  they  was,  all 
scattered  about  in  their  seats,  heads  and  heels  together ;  here  a 
pair  o'  boots  stickin  rite  strate  upwards,  and  thar  a  feller's  face 
opened  wide  enu<Tto  swaller  a  saw-mill.  Some  of  'em  was  mon- 
strous troubled  in  their  dreams,  and  kept  tossin  and  twistin  about 
as  bisy  as  bull  yearlins  in  fly  time,  while  some  big-foot  fellers 
lay  sprawl'd  out  on  the  benches,  quiet  as  midlin  of  meat,  snorin 
a  perfect  harrycan^. 

The  fust  thing  \  knowd  I  didn't  know  any  thing  in  pertickler, 
cept  that  my  eyes  folt  monstrous  gritty  when  l  tried  to  open  'em 
wide. 

•Look  here ;  master  —  master  '  " 


INCIDENTS   OF  TRAVEL.  36f 

"  Hello  !  "  ses  I,  "  Jim,  what's  (he  matter  ?  " 

"  I  isn't  Jim,  master,"  says  the  nigger  feller  what  was  shak,rn 
me  by  the  coller  ;  "  you  better  go  to  the  hotel ;  the  passengers  is 
all  gone  long  time  ago.1' 

I  soon  seed  how  it  was,  and  not  havin  no  baggage  but  just  my 
saddle-bags,  I  tuck  the  road  the  feller  pinted  to. 

1  soon  came  to  a  place  where  there  was  nothin  but  wagons  and 
a  lot  of  fellers  settin  round  a  fire. 

"  Whar's  the  hotel  ?  "  ses  I. 

"  Thar  ain't  no  hotel  here,"  ses  one  feller,  what  was  singin,— 

••  Drive  my  wagon  long  the  rode ; 
Sorry  team  and  heavy  load." 

"  Won't  you  take  something  ?  "  ses  he,  drawin  a  old  junk  bot- 
tle of  rum,  that  smelled  strong  enufT  of  inyuns  to  knock  a  man 
down,  and  pintin  it  rite  under  my  nose  fore  I  know'd  what  he 
was  bout. 

"  No,  I  thank  you,"  ses  I ;  "  I's  a  Washingtonian." 

"  Who's  they  ?  "  ses  he  ;  "  sum  of  your  Flurnoy  preachers,  I 
spose  ? " 

"  No,"  ses  I,  "  they's  revolutioners." 

"  Revolutioners !  "  ses  he ;  "  why,  my  father  was  a  revolutioner, 
and  fit  against  the  British  at  King's  Mounting,  and  helped  to  lick 
tyranny  out  of  the  country." 

"  Well,  that  was  right,"  ses  I ;  "  hurra  for  the  revolutioners! 

"  Come,  take  sumthing,"  ses  he,  and  pinted  the  bottle  at  my 
nose  agin. 

"  No,"  ses  I,  "  I'm  a  revolutioner,  and  go  agin  King  Alkohol 
tooth  and  toe  nail." 

"  King  who  ?  "  ses  he. 

u  King  Rum,"  ses  I ;  "  that  very  tyrant  that's  got  you  by  the 
guzzle  now,  and  he'll  have  you  choked  down  on  yer  knees  to 
him  fore  a  half  hour  if  you  don't  revolutionize  on  him  and  quit 
him." 

The  feller  stopped  and  looked  rite  down  in  the  fire  — then  at 
me  —  then  at  the  bottle,  and  then  he  tuck  another  look  at  the 
fire. 

"  That's  a  fact,"  ses  he ;  "  it's  had  me  on  my  back  afore  to- 
night;  but  somehow  I  can't  —  yes,  I  kin  —  and  here  goes,  mis- 
ter—  hang  all  tyrants — I'm  a  revolutioner  too,  a  Washington 
revolutioner,  forever  !  "  and  with  that  he  throw'd  the  bottle  of 
rum  smack  in  the  middle  of  the  fire,  and  it  blazed  up  blue  and 
yaller  like  a  hell  hroth,  as  it  is. 

Q* 


868  ROSS'S   SPEAKER. 


Taxation  for  War.  —  Calhoun. 

If  taxes  should  become  necessary,  I  do  not  hesitate  to  say  the 
people  will  pay  cheerfully.  It  is  for  their  government  and  their 
cause,  and  would  be  their  interest  and  duty  to  pay.  But  it  may 
be,  and,  I  believe,  was  said  that  the  nation  will  not  pay  taxes,  be* 
cause  the  rights  violated  are  not  worth  defending  ;  or  that  the 
defense  will  cost  more  than  the  profit. 

Sir,  I  here  enter  my  solemn  protest  against  this  low  and  "  cal- 
culating avarice  "  entering  this  hall  of  legislation.  It  is  only  fit 
for  shops  and  counting  houses,  and  ought  not  to  disgrace  the  seat 
of  sovereignty  by  its  squalid  and  vile  appearance.  Whenever  it 
touches  sovereign  power,  the  nation  is  ruined.  It  is  too  short- 
sighted to  defend  itself.  It  is  an  unpromising  spirit,  always  ready 
to  yield  a  part  to  save  the  balance.  It  is  too  timid  to  have  in 
itself  the  laws  of  self-preservation.  It  is  never  safe  but  under  the 
shield  of  honor.  Sir,  I  only  know  of  one  principle  to  make  a 
nation  great,  to  produce  in  this  country  not  the  form,  but  real 
spirit  of  union ;  and  that  is,  to  protect  every  citizen  in  the  lawful 
pursuit  of  his  business.  He  will  then  feel  that  he  is  backed  by 
the  government ;  that  its  arm  is  his  arms,  and  will  rejoice  in  its 
increased  strength  and  prosperity.  Protection  and  patriotism 
are  reciprocal.  This  is  the  road  that  all  great  nations  have  trod. 
Sir,  I  am  not  versed  in  this  calculating  policy,  and  will  not,  there- 
fore, pretend  to  estimate  in  dollars  and  cents  the  value  of  national 
independence  or  national  affection.  I  can  not  dare  to  measure  in 
shillings  and  pence  the  misery,  the  stripes,  and  the  slavery  of  our 
impressed  seamen  ;  nor  even  to  value  our  shipping,  commercial, 
and  agricultural  losses  under  the  orders  in  council  and  the  Brit- 
ish system  of  blockade.  I  hope  I  have  not  condemned  any  pru- 
dent estimate  of  the  means  of  a  country,  before  it  enters  on  a 
war.     This  is  wisdom ;  the  other,  folly. 


State  Rights.  —  Calhoun. 

This  bill  proceeds  on  the  ground  that  the  entire  sovereignty 
of  this  country  belongs  to  the  American  people,  as  forming  one 
great  community,  and  regards  the  states  as  mere  fractions  or 
counties,  and  not  as  an  integral  part  of  the  Union.  It  has  been 
said  that  it  declares  war  against  South  Carolina.  No  !  It  decrees 
a  massacre  of  her  citizens  !    War  has  something  ennobling  about 


EULOGY  UPON  JOHN  C.  CALHOUN.       3(^ 

t,  and,  with  all  its  horrors,  brings  into  action  the  highest  qualities, 
intellectual  and  moral.  It  was,  perhaps,  in  the  order  of  Provi- 
dence that  it  should  be  permitted  for  that  very  purpose.  Bir* 
this  bill  declares  no  war,  except,  indeed,  it  be  that  which  savages 
wage  —  a  war,  not  against  the  community,  but  the  citizens  of 
whom  that  community  is  composed.  But  I  regard  it  as  worse 
than  savage  warfare  —  as  an  attempt  to  take  away  life,  under 
the  color  of  law,  without  the  trial  by  jury,  or  any  other  safe- 
guard which  the  constitution  has  thrown  around  the  life  of  the 
citizen.  It  authorizes  the  president,  or  even  his  deputies,  when 
they  may  suppose  the  law  to  be  violated,  without  the  intervention 
of  a  court  or  jury,  to  kill  without  mercy  or  discrimination. 

It  has  been  said  by  the  senator  from  Tennessee  to  be  a  meas- 
ure of  peace.  Yes,  such  peace  as  the  wolf  gives  to  the  lamb, 
the  kite  to  the  dove  !  Such  peace  as  Russia  gives  to  Poland,  or 
death  to  its  victim !  A  peace  by  extinguishing  the  political  ex- 
istence of  the  state,  by  awing  her  into  an  abandonment  of  the 
exercise  of  every  power  which  constitutes  her  a  sovereign  com- 
munity !  It  is  to  South  Carolina  a  question  of  self-preservation  ; 
and  I  proclaim  it,  that,  should  this  bill  pass,  and  an  attempt  be 
made  to  enforce  it,  it  will  be  resisted,  at  every  hazard,  even  that 
of  death  itself.  Death  is  not  the  greatest  calamity ;  there  are 
others  still  more  terrible  to  the  free  and  brave ;  and  among  them 
may  be  placed  the  loss  of  liberty  and  honor.  There  are  thou- 
sands of  her  brave  sons,  who,  if  need  be,  are  prepared  cheerfully 
to  lay  down  their  lives  in  defense  of  the  state,  and  the  great 
principles  of  constitutional  liberty  for  which  she  is  contending. 
God  forbid  that  this  should  become  necessary  !  It  never  can  be, 
unless  this  government  is  resolved  to  bring  the  question  to  ex- 
tremity ;  when  her  gallant  sons  will  stand  prepared  to  perform 
the  last  duty  —  to  die  nobly. 


Eulogy  upon  John  C.  Calhoun.  —  Webstbb. 

Sir,  the  eloquence  of  Mr.  Calhoun,  or  the  manner  of  his  ex- 
hibition of  his  sentiments  in  public  bodies,  was  part  of  his  intel 
'ectual  character.  It  grew  out  of  the  qualities  of  his  mind.  It 
was  plain,  strong,  terse,  condensed,  concise  ;  sometimes  impas- 
sioned, still  always  severe.  RejecLng  ornament,  not  often  seek- 
ing far  for  illustration,  his  power  consisted  in  the  plainness  of 
his  propositions,  in  the  closeness  of  his  logic,  and  in  the  earnest- 
ness and  energy  of  Ins  manner.     These  are  the  qualities,  as  i 

24 


370  ROSS'S   SPEAKER. 

think,  which  have  enabled  him  through  such  a  .ong  course  of 
years  to  speak  often,  and  yet  always  command  attention.  Hia 
demeanor  as  a  senator  is  known  to  us  all  —  is  appreciated,  vener- 
ated by  us  all.  No  man  was  more  respectful  to  others ;  no  man 
carried  himself  with  greater  decorum ;  no  man  with  superior 
dignity.  I  think  there  is  not  one  of  us  but  felt,  when  he  last  ad- 
dressed us  from  his  seat  in  the  Senate,  —  his  form  still  erect,  with 
a  voice  by  no  means  indicating  such  a  degree  of  physical  weak- 
ness as  did,  in  fact,  possess  him,  with  clear  tones,  and  an  impres- 
sive, and,  I  may  say,  an  imposing  manner, —  who  did  not  feel  that 
he  might  imagine  that  he  saw  before  us  a  senator  of  Rome,  when 
Rome  survived. 

Mr.  President,  he  had  the  basis,  the  indispensable  basis,  of 
all  high  character  ;  and  that  was,  unspotted  integrity,  unim- 
peached  honor  and  character.  If  he  had  aspirations,  they  were 
high,  and  honorable,  and  noble.  There  was  nothing  groveling 
or  low,  or  meanly  selfish,  that  came  near  the  head  or  the  heart 
of  Mr.  Calhoun.  Firm  in  his  purpose,  perfectly  patriotic  and 
honest,  as  I  am  sure  he  was,  in  the  principles  that  he  espoused, 
and  in  the  measures  that  he  defended,  aside  from  that  large  re- 
gard for  that  species  of  distinction  that  conducted  him  to  eminent 
stations  for  the  benefit  of  the  republic,  I  do  not  believe  he  had  a 
selfish  motive,  or  selfish  feeling. 

However,  sir,  he  may  have  differed  from  others  of  us  in  his 
political  opinions,  or  his  political  principles,  those  principles  and 
those  opinions  will  now  descend  to  posterity  under  the  sanction 
of  a  great  name.  He  has  lived  long  enough,  he  has  done 
enough,  and  he  has  done  it  so  well,  so  successfully,  so  honor- 
ably, as  to  connect  himself  for  all  time  with  the  records  of  his 
country.  He  is  now  an  historical  character.  Those  of  us  who 
have  known  him  here  will  find  that  he  has  left  upon  our  minds 
and  our  hearts  a  strong  and  lasting  impression  of  his  person,  his 
character,  and  his  public  performances,  which,  while  we  live, 
will  never  be  obliterated.  We  shall  hereafter,  I  am  sure,  in- 
dulge in  it  as  a  grateful  recollection  that  we  have  lived  in  his 
age,  that  we  have  been  his  contemporaries,  that  we  have  seen 
him,  and  heard  him,  and  known  him.  We  shall  delight  to  speak 
of  him  to  those  who  are  rising  up  to  fill  our  places.  And,  when 
the  time  shall  come  when  we  ourselves  shall  go,  one  after  an 
other,  in  succession,  to  our  graves,  we  shall  carry  with  us  a  deep 
sense  of  his  genius  and  character,  his  honor  and  integrity,  h;s 
amiable  deportment  in  private  life,  and  the  purity  of  his  exalted 
patriotism. 


TO   THE   AMERICAN   FLAG.  37. 


To  the  American  Flag.  —  J.  R.  Dram. 

When  freedom  from  her  mountain  height 
Unfurled  her  standard  to  the  air, 

She  tore  the  azure  robe  of  night, 
And  set  the  stars  of  glory  there  ; 

She  mingled  with  its  gorgeous  dyes 

The  milky  baldric  of  the  skies, 

And  striped  its  pure  celestial  white 

With  streakings  from  the  morning  light , 

Then,  from  his  mansion  in  the  sun, 

She  called  her  eagle-bearer  down, 

And  gave  into  his  mighty  hand 

The  symbol  of  her  chosen  land. 

Flag  of  the  free  heart's  only  home, 

By  angel  hands  to  valor  given, 
Thy  stars  have  lit  the  welkin  dome, 

And  all  thy  hues  were  born  in  heaven , 
Forever  float  that  standard  sheet ! 

Where  breathes  the  foe  but  falls  before  us  ? 
With  freedom's  soil  beneath  our  feet, 

And  freedom's  banner  streaming  o'er  us. 

Flag  of  the  brave,  thy  folds  shall  fly, 
The  sign  of  hope  and  triumph  high, 
When  speaks  the  signal  trumpet's  tone, 
And  the  long  line  comes  gleaming  on  : 
Ere  yet  the  life  blood,  warm  and  wet, 
Has  dimmed  the  glistening  bayonet, 
Each  soldier's  eye  shall  brightly  turn 
To  where  thy  meteor  glories  burn, 
And  as  nis  springing  steps  advance, 
Catch  war  and  vengeance  from  the  glance. 
And  when  the  cannon's  mouthings  loud 
Heave  in  wild  wreaths  the  battle  shroud, 
And  gnry  sabers  rise  and  fall 
Like  shoots  of  flame  on  midnight  pall, — 
There  shall  thy  victor  glances  glow, 

And  cowering  pTea  shall  fall  beneath 
Each  gallanl  arm  that  strikes  iw(|ow 

Tliat  loftv  messenger  of  death. 


172  ROSS'S   SPEAKER. 

Flag  of  the  seas!  on  ocean's  wave, 
Thy  stars  shall  glitter  o'er  ihe  brave  , 
When  death,  careering  on  the  gale, 
Sweeps  darkly  round  the  swelling  sail, 
And  frightened  waves  rush  wildly  back 
Before  the  broadside's  reeling  rack, 
Each  dying  wanderer  of  the  sea 
Shall  look  at  once  to  heaven  and  thee, 
And  smile  to  see  thy  splendors  fly 
In  triumph  o'er  his  closing  eye. 


Old  Ironsides.— o.  w.  Holmm. 

At,  tear  her  tattered  ensign  down ! 

Long  has  it  waved  on  high ; 
And  many  an  eye  has  danced  to  see 

That  banner  in  the  sky; 
Beneath  it  rung  the  battle  shout, 

And  burst  the  cannon's  roar  ;  — 
The  meteor  of  the  ocean  air 

Shall  sweep  the  clouds  no  more 

Her  deck,  once  red  with  heroes'  blood, 

Where  knelt  the  vanquished  foe, 
When  winds  were  hurrying  o'er  the  flood 

And  waves  were  white  below, — 
No  more  shall  feel  the  victor's  tread, 

Or  know  the  conquered  knee;  — 
The  harpies  of  the  shore  shall  pluck 

The  eagle  of  the  sea ! 

O,  better  that  her  shattered  hulk 

Should  sink  beneath  the  wave  ; 
Her  thunders  shook  the  mighty  deep 

And  there  should  be  her  grave : 
Nail  to  the  mast  her  holy  flag, 

Set  every  threadbare  sail, 
And  give  her  to  the  god  of  storms,  — - 

The  lightning  and  the  gale  ! 


DEMOSTHENES  ON  THE  CROWN  373 

Demosthenes  on  the  Crown. 

(exordium.) 
««  The  greatest  oration  of  the  greatest  of  orators." 

Let  me  begin,  men  of  Athens,  by  imploring,  of  all  the 
heavenly  powers,  that  the  same  kindly  sentiments,  which  I  have, 
throughout  my  public  life,  cherished  toward  this  country  and  each 
one  of  you,  may  now  by  you  be  shown  toward  me  in  the  present 
contest.  In  two  respects  my  adversary  plainly  has  the  advan- 
tage of  me.  First,  we  have  not  the  same  interests  at  stake  :  it 
is  by  no  means  the  same  thing  for  me  to  forfeit  your  esteem,  and 
for  /Eschines,  an  unprovoked  volunteer,  to  fail  in  his  impeach- 
ment. My  other  disadvantage  is,  the  natural  proneness  of  men 
to  lend  a  pleased  attention  to  invective  and  accusation,  but  to  give 
little  heed  to  him  whose  theme  is  his  own  vindication.  To 
my  adversary,  therefore,  falls  the  part  which  ministers  to  your 
gratification,  while  to  me  there  is  only  .eft  that  which,  I  may 
almost  say,  is  distasteful  to  all.  And  yet,  if  I  do  not  speak  of 
myself  and  my  own  conduct,  I  shall  appear  defenseless  against 
liis  charges,  and  without  proof  that  my  honors  were  well  earned. 
This,  therefore,  I  must  do  ;  but  it  shall  be  with  moderation.  And 
bear  in  mind  that  the  blame  of  my  dwelling  on  personal  topics 
must  justly  rest  upon  him  who  has  instituted  this  personal  im- 
peachment. 

At  least,  my  judges,  you  will  admit  that  this  question  concerns 
me  as  much  as  Ctesiphon,  and  justifies  on  my  part  an  equal 
anxiety.  To  be  stripped  of  any  possession,  and  more  especially 
by  an  enemy,  is  grievous  to  bear ;  but  to  be  robbed  of  your 
confidence  and  esteem,  —  of  all  possessions  the  most  precious, — 
is  indeed  intolerable.  Such,  then,  being  my  stake  in  this  cause. 
1  conjure  you  all  to  give  ear  to  my  defense  against  these  charges, 
with  that  impartiality  which  the  laws  enjoin  —  those  laws  first 
given  by  Solon,  and  which  he  fixed,  not  only  by  engraving  them 
on  brazen  tables,  but  by  the  sanction  of  the  oaths  you  take  when 
sitting  in  judgment ;  because  he  perceived  that,  the  accuser  being 
armed  with  the  advantage  of  speaking  first,  the  accused  can 
have  no  chance  of  resisting  his  charges,  unless  you,  his  judges, 
keeping  the  oath  sworn  before  heaven,  shall  receive  with  favor 
he  defense  which  comes  last,  and,  lending  an  equal  ear  to  both 
parties,  shall  thus  make  up  your  minds  upon  the  whole  of  the  case. 

But,  on  this  day,  when  I  am  about  to  render  up  an  account,  as 
it  should  seem,  of  my  whole  life,  both  public  and  private,  I  would 
again,  as  in   the  outset,  implore   the  gods,  and  in  your  presencfl 


374  ROSS'S   SPEAKER. 

pour  out  to  them  my  supplications,  —  first,  to  grant  me  at  your 
hands  the  same  kindness,  in  this  conflict,  which  I  have  ever  borne 
toward  our  country  and  all  of  you ;  and  next,  that  they  may 
incline  you  all  to  pronounce  upon  this  impeachment  the  decision 
which  shall  best  consult  the  glory  of  the  state,  and  the  religious 
obligations  of  each  individual  judge. 


Public  Spirit  of  the  Athenians. 

Demosthenes  on  the  Crown. 

The  Athenians  never  were  known  to  live  contented  in  a  slavish 
though  secure  obedience  to  unjust  and  arbitrary  power.  No. 
Our  whole  history  is  a  series  of  gallant  contests  for  preeminence  : 
the  whole  period  of  our  national  existence  hath  been  spent  in 
braving  dangers  for  the  sake  of  glory  and  renown.  And  so 
highly  do  you  esteem  such  conduct,  as  characteristic  of  the 
Athenian  spirit,  that  those  of  your  ancestors  who  were  most  emi- 
nent for  it  are  ever  the  most  favorite  objects  of  your  praise. 
And  with  reason;  for  who  can  reflect,  without  astonishment,  on 
the  magnanimity  of  those  men  who  resigned  their  lands,  gave 
up  their  city,  and  embarked  in  their  ships,  rather  than  live  at  the 
bidding  of  a  stranger  ?  The  Athenians  of  that  day  looked  out 
for  no  speaker,  no  general,  to  procure  them  a  state  of  easy 
slavery.  They  had  the  spirit  to  reject  even  life,  unless  they  were 
allowed  to  enjoy  that  life  in  freedom.  For  it  was  a  principle 
fixed  deeply  in  every  breast,  that  man  was  not  born  to  his  parents 
only,  but  to  his  country.  And  mark  the  distinction.  He  who 
regards  himself  as  born  only  to  his  parents  waits  in  passive 
submission  for  the  hour  of  his  natural  dissolution.  He  who 
considers  that  he  is  the  child  of  his  country,  also,  volunteers  to 
meet  death  rather  than  behold  that  country  reduced  to  vassalage, 
and  thinks  those  insults  and  disgraces  which  he  must  endure  io 
a  state  enslaved  much  more  terrible  than  death. 

Should  I  attempt  to  assert  that  it  was  I  who  inspired  you  with 
sentiments  worthy  of  your  ancestors,  I  should  meet  the  just 
resentment  of  every  hearer.  No:  it  is  my  point  to  show  that 
such  sentiments  are  properly  your  own ;  that  they  were  the 
sentiments  of  my  country  long  before  my  days.  I  claim  but  my 
share  of  merit  in  having  acted  on  such  principles  in  every  pan 
of  my  admi  ..stration.  He,  then,  who  condemns  every  part  of 
my  administration,  —  he  who  directs  you  to  treat  me  with  se 
verity,  as  one  who  hath  involved  the  state  in  terrors  and  dangers, 
—  while  he  labors  to  deprive  me  of  present  honor,  robs  yw  of 


DEMOSTHENES  NOT  VANQUISHED  BY  PHILIP       375 

_he  applause  of  all  posterity.  For,  if  you  now  proi.ounce,  that, 
as  my  public  conduct  hath  not  been  right,  Ctesiphon  must  stanc 
condemned,  it  must  be  thought  that  you  yourselves  have  acted 
wrong,  not  that  you  owe  your  present  state  to  the  caprice  of 
fortune.  —  But  it  can  not  be.  No,  my  countrymen,  it  can  not  be 
that  you  have  acted  wrong  in  encountering  danger  bravely  for 
the  liberty  and  safety  of  all  Greece.  No :  I  swear  it  by  in- 
spirits of  our  sires,  who  rushed  upon  destruction  at  Marathon  !  — 
b\  those  who  stood  arrayed  at  Plataea !  —  by  those  who  fougl- -. 
the  sea  fight  at  Salamis  !  —  by  the  men  of  Artemisium  !  —  by 
the  others,  so  many  and  so  brave,  who  now  rest  in  our  public 
sepulchers !  —  all  of  whom  their  country  judged  worthy  of  the 
same  honor  ;  all,  I  say,  iEschines  ;  not  those  only  who  prevailed, 
not  those  only  who  were  victorious.  And  with  reason.  What 
was  the  part  of  gallant  men  they  all  performed  ?  Their  success 
was  such  as  the  supreme  Ruler  of  the  world  dispensed  to  each. 


Demosthenes  not  vanquished  by  Philip. 

Demosthenes  on  the  Crown. 

A  wicked  thing,  Athenians,  a  wicked  thing  is  a  calumniator, 
ever  —  querulous  and  industrious  in  seeking  pretenses  of  com- 
plaint.  But  this  creature  is  despicable  by  nature,  and  incapable 
of  any  trace  of  generous  and  noble  deeds ;  ape  of  a  tragedian, 
third-rate  actor,  spurious  orator!  For  what,  iEschincs,  dues 
your  eloquence  profit  the  country  ?  You  now  descant  upon  what 
is  past  and  gone  ;  as  if  a  physician,  when  called  to  patients  in  a 
sinking  state,  should  give  no  advice,  nor  prescribe  any  course  by 
which  the  disease  might  be  cured,  but,  after  one  of  them  had 
died,  and  the  last  offices  were  performing  to  his  remains,  should 
follow  him  to  the  grave,  and  expound  how  the  poor  man  never 
would  have  died,  had  such  and  such  things  only  been  done. 
Moon-stricken  !  is  it  now  that  at  length  you  too  speak  out  ? 

As  to  the  defeat,  that  incident  in  which  you  so  exult,  (wretch  ! 
who  should  rather  mourn  for  it,)  —  look  through  my  whole  con- 
duct, and  you  shall  find  nothing  there  that  brought  down  this 
calamity  on  my  country.  Consider  only,  Athenians :  never, 
from  any  embassy  upon  which  you  sent  me,  did  I  come  off 
worsted  by  Philip's  ambassadors;  not  from  Thessaly,  not  from 
Ambracia,  not  from  Illyria,  not  from  the  Thracian  kings,  not 
from  the  Byzantians,  nor  from  any  other  quarter  whatever, — 
nor  finally,  of  late,  from  Thebes.  But  wheresoever  his  nego- 
tiators  were  overcome   in   debate,  thither    Philip   marched,  and 


87b  ROSS'S  SPEAKER. 

carried  the  day  by  his  arms.  Do  you,  then,  exact  this  of  me  i 
and  are  you  not  ashamed,  at  the  moment  you  are  upbraiding  me 
for  weakness,  to  require  that  I  should  defy  him  single-handed, 
and  by  force  of  words  alone  ?  For  what  other  weapons  had  I  ? 
Certainly  not  the  lives  of  men,  nor  the  fortune  of  warriors,  nor  the 
military  operations  of  which  you  are  so  blundering  as  to  demand 
an  account  at  my  hands. 

But,  whatever  a  minister  can  be  accountable  for,  make  of  that 
the  strictest  scrutiny,  and  I  do  not  object.  What,  then,  falls 
within  this  description  r  To  descry  events  in  their  first  begin- 
nings, to  cast  his  look  forward,  and  to  warn  others  of  their 
approach.  All  this  I  have  done.  Then  to  confine  within  the 
narrowest  bounds  all  delays,  and  backwardness,  and  ignorance, 
and  contentiousness  —  faults  which  are  inherent  and  unavoidable 
in  all  states ;  and,  on  the  other  hand,  to  promote  unanimity,  and 
friendly  dispositions,  and  zeal  in  the  performance  of  public  duty  : 
and  all  these  things  I  likewise  did ;  nor  can  any  man  point  on! 
any  of  them  that,  so  far  as  depended  on  me,  was  left  undone. 

If,  then,  it  should  be  asked  by  what  means  Philip  for  the  most 
part  succeeded  in  his  operations,  every  one  would  answer,  "  By 
his  army,  by  his  largesses,  by  corrjpting  those  at  the  head  of 
affairs. "  Well,  then,  I  neither  had  armies,  nor  did  I  command 
them  ;  and  therefore  the  argument  respecting  military  operations 
can  not  touch  me.  Nay,  in  so  far  as  I  was  inaccessible  to  bribes, 
there  I  conquered  Philip.  For,  as  he  who  purchases  any  one 
overcomes  him  who  has  received  the  price  and  sold  himself,  so 
he  who  will  not  take  the  money,  nor  consent  to  be  bribed,  has 
conquered  the  bidder.  Thus,  as  far  as  I  am  concerned,  this 
country  stands  unconquered. 


Catiline  denounced.  —  Cicero. 

[Cicero  was  born  106  B.  C,  ',wo  hundred  and  sixteen  years  after  the 
death  of  Demosthenes,  and  as  an  orator  ranks  next  to  Demosthenes.  His 
orations  against  Catiline  and  Verres  are  masterpieces  of  denunciatory 
eloquence.] 

How  far,  O  Catiline,  wilt  thou  abuse  our  patience  ?  How 
long  shalt  thou  baffle  justice  in  thy  mad  career  ?  To  what  ex- 
treme wilt  thou  carry  thy  audacity  ?  Art  thou  nothing  daunted 
by  the  nightly  watch  posted  to  secure  the  Palatium  ?  Nothing 
dv  the  city  guards  ?  Nothing  by  the  rally  of  all  good  citizens  ■ 
Nothing  by  the  assembling  of  the  Senate  in  this  fortified  place  r 
Nothing  by  the  averted  looks  of  all  here  present?     Seest  thru 


CATILINE   DENOUNCED.  377 

not  ihat  all  thy  plots  are  exposed  ?  — that  thy  wretched  conspiracy 
is  laid  bare  to  e-verv  man's  knowledge  here  in  the  Senate  ?  — 
that  we  are  well  aware  of  thy  proceedings  of  last  night;  of  the 
night  before  ;  the  place  of  meeting,  the  company  convoked,  the 
measures  concerted  ?  Alas  the  times  !  Alas  the  public  morals  ! 
The  Senate  understands  all  this.  The  consul  sees  it.  Yet  the 
traitor  lives !  Lives  ?  Ay,  truly,  and  confronts  us  here  in 
council  —  takes  part  in  our  deliberations  —  and,  with  his  meas- 
uring eye,  marks  out  each  man  of  us  for  slaughter !  And  we, 
all  this  while,  strenuous  that  we  are,  think  we  have  amply  dis- 
charged our  duty  to  the  state  if  we  but  shun  this  madman's  sword 
and  fury ! 

Long  since,  0  Catiline,  ought  the  consul  to  have  ordered  thee 
to  execution,  and  brought  upon  thy  own  head  the  ruin  thou  hast 
been  meditating  against  others.  There  was  that  virtue  once  in 
Rome,  that  a  wicked  citizen  was  held  more  execrable  than  the 
deadliest  foe.  We  have  a  law  still,  Catiline,  for  thee.  Think- 
not  that  we  are  powerless,  because  forbearing.  We  have  a 
decree,  —  though  it  rests  among  our  archives  like  a  sword  in  its 
scabbard,  —  a  decree,  by  which  thy  life  would  be  made  to  pay 
the  forfeit  of  thy  crimes.  And,  should  I  order  thee  to  be  instantly 
seized  and  put  to  death,  1  make  just  doubt  whether  all  good  men 
wou'd  not  think  it  done  rather  too  late  than  any  man  too  cruelly. 
But,  for  good  reasons,  I  will  yet  defer  the  blow  long  since 
deserved.  Then  will  I  doom  thee,  when  no  man  is  found  so 
lost,  so  wicked,  nay,  so  like  thyself,  but  shall  confess  that  it  was 
justly  dealt.  While  there  is  one  man  that  dares  defend  thee, 
live.  But  thou  shalt  live  so  beset,  so  surrounded,  so  scrutinized 
by  the  vigilant  guards  that  I  have  placed  around  thee,  that  thou 
shalt  not  stir  a  foot  against  the  republic  without  my  knowledge. 
There  shall  be  eyes  to  detect  thy  slightest  movement,  and  ears 
to  catch  thy  wariest  whisper,  of  which  thou  shalt  not  dream. 
The  darkness  of  night  shall  not  cover  thy  treason  —  the  walls  of 
privacy  shall  not  stifle  its  voice.  Baffled  on  all  sides,  thy  mosl 
secret  counsels  clear  as  noonday,  what  canst  thou  now  have  in 
view  ?  Proceed,  plot,  conspire  as  thou  wilt  ;  there  is  nothing 
you  can  contrive,  nothing  you  can  propose,  nothing  you  can 
attempt,  which  I  shall  not  know,  hear,  and  promptly  understand. 
Thou  shalt  soon  he  made  aware  that  I  am  even  more  active  in 
providing  for  the  preservation  of  the  state  than  thou  in  plo' ting 
ita  destruction. 


378  ROSS'S  SPEAILER. 


Catiline  expelled.  —  Cicero. 

At  length  Romans,  we  are  rid  of  Catiline.  We  have  driven 
nim  forth,  arunk  with  fury,  breathing  mischief,  threatening  to 
revis.t  us  with  fire  and  sword.  He  is  gone ;  he  is  fled ;  he  aas 
escaped;  he  has  broken  away.  No  longer,  within  the  verj 
walls  of  the  city,  shall  he  plot  her  ruin.  We  have  forced  him 
from  secret  plots  into  open  rebellion.  The  bad  citizen  is  now 
the  avowed  traitor.  His  flight  is  the  confession  of  his  treason. 
Would  that  his  attendants  had  not  been  so  few.  Be  speedy,  ye 
companions  of  his  dissolute  pleasures ;  be  speedy,  and  you  may 
overtake  him  before  night,  on  the  Aurelian  road.  Let  him  not 
languish,  deprived  of  your  society.  Haste  to  join  the  congenial 
crew  that  compose  his  army ;  his  army,  I  say,  for  who  doubts 
that  the  army  under  Manlius  expect  Catiline  for  their  leader  ? 
And  such  an  army !  Outcasts  from  honor,  and  fugitives  from 
debt ;  gamblers  and  felons ;  miscreants,  whose  dreams  are  of 
rapine,  murder,  and  conflagration. 

Against  these  gallant  troops  of  your  adversary,  prepare,  O 
Romans,  your  garrisons  and  armies;  and  first  to  that  maimed 
and  battered  gladiator  oppose  your  consuls  and  generals ;  next, 
against  that  miserable,  outcast  horde,  lead  forth  the  strength  and 
flower  of  all  Italy.  On  the  one  side  chastity  contends ;  on  the 
other  wantonness ;  here  purity,  there  pollution ;  here  integrity, 
there  treachery  ;  here  piety,  there  profaneness ;  here  constancy, 
there  rage  ;  here  honesty,  there  baseness  r  here  continence,  there 
lust  in  short,  equity,  temperance,  fortitude,  prudence,  struggle 
with  iniquity,  luxury,  cowardice,  rashness ;  every  virtue  with 
every  vice ;  and,  lastly,  the  contest  lies  between  well-grounded 
hope  and  absolute  despair.  In  such  a  conflict,  were  even  human 
aid  to  fail,  would  not  the  immortal  gods  empower  such  conspic< 
uous  virtue  to  triumph  over  such  complicated  vice  ? 


Verres  denounced.  —  Cioeeo 

An  opinion  has  long  prevailed,  fathers,  that,  in  public  prosecu 
lions,  men  of  wealth,  however  clearly  convicted,  are  always  safe. 
This  opinion,  so  injurious  to  your  order,  so  detrimental  to  the 
state,  it  is  now  in  your  power  to  refute.  A  man  is  on  trial  before 
you  who  is  rich,  and  who  hones  his  riches  will  compass  nis 
acquittal,  but  whose  life  and  actions  are  his  sufficient  condeinna- 


VERRES    DENOUNCED.  379 

tion  in  the  eyes  of  all  candid  men.  I  speak  of  Caius  Verres, 
who,  if  he  now  rece.ve  not  the  sentence  his  crimes  deserve,  it 
shall  not  be  througli  the  lack  of  a  criminal,  or  of  a  prosecutor,  but 
through  the  failure  of  the  ministers  of  justice  to  do  their  duty. 
Passing  over  the  shameful  irregularities  of  his  youth,  what  does 
the  quajstorship  of  Verres  exhibit  but  one  continued  scene  of 
villainies?  The  public  treasure  squandered,  a  consul  stripped 
and  betrayed,  an  army  deserted  and  reduced  to  want,  a  province 
robbed,  the  civil  and  religious  rights  of  a  people  trampled  on ! 
But  his  praetorship  in  Sicily  has  crowned  his  career  of  wicked- 
ness, and  completed  the  lasting  monument  of  his  infamy.  His 
decisions  have  violated  all  law,  all  precedent,  all  right.  His  ex- 
tortions from  the  industrious  poor  have  been  beyond  computation. 
Our  most  faithful  allies  have  been  treated  as  enemies.  Roman 
citizens  have,  like  slaves,  been  put  to  death  with  tortures.  Men 
the  most  worthy  have  been  condemned  and  banished  without  a 
hearing,  while  the  most  atrocious  criminals  have,  with  money, 
purchased  exemption  from  the  punishment  due  to  their  guilt. 

1  ask  now',  Verres,  what  have  you  to  advance  against  these 
charges  ?  Art  thou  not  the  tyrant  prretor,  who,  at  no  greater 
distance  than  Sicily,  within  sight  of  the  Italian  coast,  dared  to 
put  to  an  infamous  death,  on  the  cross,  that  ill-fated  and  innocent 
citizen,  Publius  Gavius  Cosanus?  And  what  was  his  offense? 
He  had  declared  his  intention  of  appealing  to  the  justice  of 
his  country  against  your  brutal  persecutions.  For  this,  when 
about  to  embark  for  home,  he  was  seized,  brought  before  you, 
charged  with  being  a  spy,  scourged,  and  tortured.  In  vain  did  he 
exclaim,  "  I  am  a  Roman  citizen.  I  have  served  under  Lucius 
Pretius,  who  is  now  at  Panormus,  and  who  will  attest  my  inno 
cence."  Deaf  to  all  remonstrance,  remorseless,  thirsting  foi 
innocent  blood,  you  ordered  the  savage  punishment  to  be  inflicted. 
While  the  sacred  words,  "  I  am  a  Roman  citizen,"  were  on  his 
lips,  —  words  which,  in  the  remotest  regions,  are  a  passport  to 
protection,  —  you  ordered  him  to  death,  to  a  death  upon  the: 
cross. 

O  liberty  !  O  sound  once  delightful  to  every  Roman  ear !  O 
sacred  privilege  of  Roman  citizenship  !  —  once  sacred,  now  tram- 
pled on  !  Is  it  come  to  this?  Shall  an  inferior  magistrate,  a 
governor,  who  holds  his  whole  power  of  the  Roman  people,  in  a 
Roman  province,  within  sight  of  Italy,  bind,  scourge,  torture,  and 
put  to  an  infamous  death  a  Roman  citizen?  Shall  neither  the 
cries  of  innocenee  expiring  in  agony,  the  tear-  (,!'  pitying  spec- 
tators, the  majesty  of  the  Roman  commonwealth,  nor  the  tear  of 
*+ie  justice  of  his  country,  restrain  the  merciless   monster,  who 


380  ROSS'S   SPEAKER. 

in  the  confidence  of  his  riches,  strikes  tit  the  very  root  of  liberty, 
and  sets  mankind  at  defiance  ?  And  shall  this  mar  escape  ? 
Fathers,  it  must  not  bo.  It  must  not  be,  unless  you  aid  under- 
mine the  very  foundations  of  social  safety,  strap  justice,  and 
call  down  anarchy,  massacre,  and  ruin  on  the  »     ^nonwealth. 


SoHloquy  of  Hamlet's  Uncle.  —  Shakspsasb. 

O,  mv  offence  is  rank ;  it  smells  to  Heaven ; 

It  hath  the  primal,  eldest  curse  upon  it. 

A  brothers  murder !     Pray  1  can  not, 

Though  inclination  be  as  sharp  as  'twill, 

My  stronger  guilt  defeats  my  strong  intent ; 

And  like  a  man  to  double  business  bound, 

1  stand  in  pause  where  I  shall  first  begin, 

And  both  neglect.     What  if  this  cursed  hand 

Were  thicker  than  itself  with  brother's  blood , 

Is  there  not  rain  enough  in  the  sweet  heavens 

To  wash  it  white  as  snow  ?     Whereto  serves  mercy 

But  to  confront  the  visage  of  offense  ? 

And  what's  in  prayer,  but  this  twofold  force. 

To  be  forestalled,  ere  we  come  to  fall, 

Or  pardoned  being  down  ?  —  Then  I'll  look  up  ; 

My  fault  is  past.     But  O,  what  form  of  prayer 

Can  serve  my  turn  ?     "  Forgive  me  my  foul  murder  ! 

That  can  not  be ;  since  I  am  still  possessed 

Of  those  effects  for  which  I  did  the  murder  — 

My  crown,  mine  own  ambition,  and  my  queen. 

May  one  be  pardoned  and  retain  the  offense  ? 

In  the  corrupted  currents  of  this  world 

Offense's  gilded  hand  may  shove  by  justice  , 

And  oft  'tis  seen,  the  wicked  prize  itself 

Buys  out  the  law  :  but  'tis  not  so  above ; 

There,  is  no  shuffling  ;  there,  the  action  lies 

In  his  true  nature  ,  and  we  ourselves  compelled, 

Even  to  the  teeth  and  forehead  of  our  faults. 

To  give  in  evidence.     What  then  —  what  rests  ? 

Try  what  repentance  can  :  what  can  it  not  ? 

Yet  what  can  it,  when  one  can  not  repent  ? 

O,  wretched  state !  O,  bosom,  black  as  death  I 

O,  Hm6d  3oul ;  that,  struggling  to  be  free, 

Art  mere  engaged  !     Help,  angels,  make  assay  1 


THE   ESSENCE   liOY.  38] 

Bow,  stubborn  knees  ;  and  heart,  with  strings  of  steel, 
Be  soft  as  sinews  of  the  new-born  babe ! 
All  may  be  well. 


Cheerfulness.—  Shakspillm. 

Let  me  play  the  fool ; 
With  mirth  and  laughter  let  old  wrinkles  come. 
Why  should  a  man,  whose  blood  is  within, 
Sit  like  his  grandsire  cut  in  alabaster  ? 
Sleep  when  he  wakes  ?  and  creep  into  the  jaundice 
By  being  peevish  ?     I  tell  thee  what,  Antonio, 
I  love  thee,  and  it  is  my  love  that  speaks : 
There  are  a  sort  of  men,  whose  visages 
Do  cream  and  mantle  like  a  standing  pond  ; 
And  do  a  willful  stillness  entertain, 
With  purpose  to  be  dressed  in  an  opinion 
Of  wisdom,  gravity,  profound  conceit ; 
As  who  should  say,  I  am  Sir  Oracle, 
And  when  I  ope  my  lips,  let  no  dog  bark  ! 
O,  my  Antonio,  I  do  know  of  these, 
That  therefore  only  are  reputed  wise, 
For  saying  nothing ;  who,  I  am  very  sure, 
If  they  should  speak,  would  almost  damn  those  ears, 
Which,  hearing  them,  would  call  their  brothers  fools. 
I'll  tell  thee  more  of  this  another  time  ; 
But  fish  not  with  this  melancholy  bait, 
For  this  fool's  gudgeon,  this  opinion. 


The  Essence  Boy. 

T)-i»  may  be  spoken  by  a  boy  with  a  basket  on  his  arm  containing  vials. 

Ladies,  you  could  not  do  a  kinder  act  than  to  lighten  a  pool 
lad's  basket.  I  have  been  crying  my  essence  since  early  dawn 
but  I  have  nol  had  worse  luck  in  a  long  time.  I  thought  I 
should  soon  sell  this  one  bottle  of  '■'■  patriotism,"  for  I  am  sure  a 
few  drops  would  ad  as  a  charm  a1  this  time.  It  is  a  scarce 
article,  and  nearly  out  of  the  ma  'ket. 

U  is  compounded  from  extracts  of  the  "  spirit  of  seventy-six,' 

B 


382  ROSS'S  SPFAKEH. 

the  oil  of  the  "  love  of  peace  and  good  order,"  together  with  two 
other  valuable  extracts,  viz.,  "  do  justice  to  all  men,"  and  "love 
your  neighbor  as  yourself." 

But,  ladies,  stay  a  moment ;  here  is  the  very  article  for  you. 
See  how  it  sparkles.  You  may  say  of  it,  "  How  ruby  bright." 
This  is  the  essence  of  "  matrimony "  —  a  very  harmless  and 
delightful  composition.  Observe  its  crimson  hue  ;  that  is  pro- 
duced by  the  extract  of"  modesty  "  with  the  tincture  of"  blushes." 
This  essence  also  contains  a  mixture  of  "  simplicity  of  manners ' 
and  "  plain  dealing,"  with  a  decoction  from  a  3imple  sprig  of 
"  firmness." 

There  are  several  other  precious  ingredients  in  this  essence, 
and  among  them  is  the  "  spirit  of  meekness,"  "  gentleness,"  and 
"  forbearance,"  with  some  grains  of  "  economy,"  "  prudence," 
and  "  industry."  This  essence  is  sometimes  adulterated  with  an 
extract  of  "  bitter  sweet."  The  genuine  has  on  the  seal  a  heart 
and  an  eye,  with  the  word  "  fides."  This  is  the  veritable  es- 
sence, as  you  see,  and  is  sweetened  with  the  honey  of  "  recip- 
rocal affection." 

Here  is  an  article  of  great  value  to  the  ladies.  It  is  the 
essence  of  "  beauty,"  distilled  from  the  delicate  and  lovely  plant 
known  as  a  "  meek  and  quiet  spirit."  I  have  been  told  by  those 
who  have  long  used  it,  that  they  are  regardless  of  gray  hairs 
and  wrinkles,  and  seek  no  greater  adornment  for  grace  and 
beauty. 

I  will  also  show  the  "  art  of  pleasing,"  procured  from  an  ex- 
tract of  the  "  root  of  good  will."  Here  is  the  essence  of  "  pru- 
dence." It  is  distilled  from  the  blossoms  of  the  tree  called 
"  think  before  you  act."  This  is  very  cooling,  and  keeps  off  all 
fevers  of  fretfulness  and  anger.  A  single  drop  taken  daily 
strengthens  the  whole  system. 

This  is  the  essence  of  "  industry."  It  contains  a  decoction 
from  a  native  plant  called  "  keep  yourself  busy,"  united  with  the 
oil  of  the  "  flowers  of  contentment."  These  two,  the  essence 
of  "  prudence  "  and  the  essence  of  "  industry,"  are  excellent 
articles  to  guard  against  the  ills  of  life.  Those  who  have  made 
use  of  them  say  they  operate  admirably  in  preventing  poverty 
bad  habits,  discontent,  and  many  other  evils. 


SCENE    FROM    SHAKSPEARE.  383 

.  Scene  from  S/iakspeare. 

Quinob,  Bottom,  Flctb,  Stabvelin-q,  and  Suva 

Quince,     h  all  our  company  here  ? 

Bottom.  You  had  best  call  them,  conjunctly  and  severally, 
generally  and  specially  ;  that  is  whereof  to  call  them  man  by 
man,  according  to  the  scrip. 

Quin.  Here  is  the  scroll  of  every  man's  name  in  this  town 
that  is  fit  to  be  seen  upon  the  stage  before  the  duke  and  duchess. 

Bot.  Good  Peter  Quince,  go  to  work  in  a  method.  Begin 
at  the  top  and  go  on  to  the  bottom  ;  that  is  whereof,  as  a  man 
may  say,  first  tell  us  what  the  play  treats  of,  then  read  the 
names  of  the  actors ;  and  so  your  business  will  stand  by  itself,  as 
regular  as  a  building  set  upon  the  very  pinnacle  of  its  foun- 
dation. 

Quin.  Why,  then,  the  play  is  the  most  delectable  and  lament- 
able comedy,  entitled  and  called  "  The  cruel  tragedy  of  the 
death  of  Py ramus  and  Thisby." 

Bot.  A  very  moving  play,  I  warrant  it.  A  very  deep  trage- 
dy, I  know  by  the  sound  of  the  title  of  it.  Pyramus  and  Thisby  ! 
I  suppose  they  are  to  have  their  throats  cut  from  ear  to  ear. 
Well,  now,  good  Peter,  call  forth  your  actors  by  the  scroll. 
Musters,  spread  yourselves  out  into  a  clump,  every  man  con 
junctly  by  himself. 

Quia.     Answer  as  I  call  you.     Nick  Bottom,  weaver. 

Bot.     Ready  ;  name  my  part,  and  proceed. 

Quin.     You,  Nick  Bottom,  are  set  down  for  Pyramus. 

Bot.  I  am  to  play  Pyramus.  Well,  and  who  is  Pyramus  ? 
A  gentleman,  or  a  simple  man  ? 

Quin.  Pyramus  is  a  lovyer,  and  Thisby  is  his  sweetheart 
Pyramus  kills  himself  for  grief  because  a  lion  got  hold  of 
Thisby's  cloak  and  tore  it,  which  makes  Pyramus  conclude  a>- 
1"j\"  he  had  torn  her  too,  and  eaten  her  up  all  but  the  cloak, 
whereof  he  had  not  touched  her.  So  that  poor  Pyramus  loses 
his  life,  d'ye  see,  for  nothing  at  all  ;  whereof  you  know  &*<  it 
is  enough  to  make  a  man  hang  himself. 

Box  What,  then,  am  I  to  hang  myself  for  vexation  because 
I  hud  killed  myself  for  nothing? 

Quin.      No,  that  is  not  in  the  play. 

Bot.  Mere  will  be  salt  tears  wept,  or  1  am  mistaken  •  and  if 
I  he  the  man  that  acts  this  same  Pyramus,  lei  the  ladies  look  to 
their  eyes.     I  will  condole  and  congratulate  to  some  "n:"      1 


3S4  ROSS'S    SPEAKER. 

will  bieak  every  heart  that  is  not  double  hooped  with  fliit.  I 
liave  a  main  notion  of  acting  your  lovyer  that  is  crossed  in  love. 
There  is  but  one  thing  that  is  more  to  my  humor  than  your 
tribulation  lovyer;  that  is  your  tyrant  —  your  thundering  tyrant. 
I  could  play  you,  for  example,  I  could  play  you  such  a  tyrant  as 
Ercles,  when  he  gets  on  his  brimstone  shirt  and  is  all  on  fire,  as 
the  unlucky  boys  burn  a  great  rat  alive  with  spirits.  And  then 
when  he  takes  up  little  —  what's  his  name?  —  to  squir  him  cff 
the  cliff*  into  the  sea,  0,  then  'tis  fine  !     "  I'll  split 

"  The  raging  rocks  ; 
And  shivering  shocks, 
With  thundering  knocks, 
Shall  break  the  locks 

Of  prison  gates. 
And  Phibbus'  car 
Shall  shine  from  far, 
And  kindle  war 
With  many  a  scar, 
And  make  and  mar 

The  foolish  fates." 

There  is  your  right  tragedy  stuff*.  This  is  Ercles'  vein  to  a 
hair  ;  this  is  your  only  true  tyrant's  vein.  Your  lovyer'*  vein  is 
more  upon  the  condoling  and  congratulating.  Now,  Peter  Quince, 
name  the  rest  of  the  players. 

Quin.     Francis  Flute,  bellows  mender. 

Flute.     Here,  Peter  Quince. 

Quin.     Francis,  you  must  take  Thisby  on  you. 

Flute.  What,  that  is  to  be  Nick  Bottom's  sweetheart,  and  to 
have  my  cloak  worried  alive  by  the  great  beast  ?  Why,  Peter, 
I  have  a  beard  a-coming  ?  I  shan't  make  a  clever  woman,  as 
you  may  say,  unless  it  were  Mrs.  What-d'ye-call-her  —  Mrs. 
Tibby's  mother  or  aunt.  Has  not  the  gentlewoman  of  the  play 
a  mother  or  aunt  that  appears  ? 

Quin.  Yes  ;  but  you  must  do  Thisby.  You  will  do  Thisby 
well  enough,  man.  You  shall  do  it  in  a  mask.  Robin  Starve- 
ling, tailor. 

Star.     Here,  Peter  Quince. 

Quin.  You  must  play  Pyramus'  father  ;  I  will  play  Thisby's 
father  ;  and  Flute  must  play  Thisby.     Simon  Snug,  joiner. 

Snug.     Here,  Peter  Quince. 

Quin.     Simon,  you  must  act  the  part  of  the  lion. 

Snug.  Heh  !  the  pa  rt  of  the  lion  do  you  say,  Peter  Quince  ? 
»Vhy,  I  never  made  a  beast  of  myself  in  my  life,  but  now  and 
fhen  when  I  had  drunk  a  cup  too  much. 


SCENE   FROM   SHAKSPEARE.  8S5 

Quin.  Pshaw  !  pshaw  !  a  better  man  than  you  or  I  either  has 
been  ma  le  a  beast  before  now  —  ay,  and  a  horned  beast,  too. 
But  the  ion  is  a  royal  beast,  the  king  of  beasts.  So,  Simon, 
you  must  play  the  part  of  the  lion. 

Snug.  Well,  but  an'  it  be  a  long  part,  1  can't  remember  it, 
for  I  have  but  a  poor  brain  of  my  own.  Let  me  see  how  many 
pages. 

Quia.  Why,  Simon,  it  is  not  written  ;  and,  for  tne  matter  of 
that,  you  may  do  it  off  hand.     It  is  nothing  but  roaring. 

Bot.  I'll  tell  you  what,  Peter  Quince,  you  were  better  to  let 
me  act  the  part  of  the  lion.  Simon  Snug  is  but  a  hen-nearted 
sort  of  a  fellow.  He  won't  roar  you  so  loud  as  a  mouse  in  the 
hole  in  the  wall.  But  if  you  will  let  me  play  the  part,  1  will 
make  such  a  noise  as  shall  do  any  man's  heart  good  to  hear  me. 
I  will  roar  that  the  duke  shall  cry,  "  Encore,  encore ;  let  him 
roar  —  once  more,  once  more." 

Quin.  But  if  you  were  too  terrible,  you  might  frighten  the 
duchess  and  the  ladies  that  they  would  shriek,  and  that  were 
enough  to  hang  us  all. 

Bot.  Ay,  if  "the  duchess  and  the  ladies  were  frightened  out 
of  their  wits,  to  be  sure,  perhaps,  they  might  have  no  more  wit 
than  to  get  us  all  hanged.  But  do  you  think,  Peter  Quince,  that 
I  have  no  more  inhumanity  in  my  nature  than  to  frighten  people  ? 
I  would  restrain  and  aggravate  my  voice  that  I  would  roar  you 
as  gentle  as  any  sucking  dove.  I  would  roar  you  were  it  any 
nightingale. 

Quin.  I  tell  you,  Nick  Bottom,  hold  your  tongue  with  your 
roaring,  and  set  your  heart  at  rest.  You  shall  play  nothing  but 
Pyramus. 

Bot.  Well,  if  I  must,  I  must.  What  can  not  be  endured, 
you  know,  must  be  cured.  But  what  beard  were  I  best  to  play 
it  in? 

Quin.  You  must  not  have  on  a  gray  beard,  you  know,  be- 
cause it  will  not  look  natural  for  a  man  with  a  gray  beard  to  be 
ucting  the  part  of  a  lovyer. 

Bot.  Why,  look  you,  Master  Peter  Quince,  1  don't  think  it 
10  very  unnatural  to  see  people  with  <jray  beards  acting  the  pari 
of  lovyers  ;  at  least  I  am  sure  it  had  not  need  be  unnatural,  for 
it  is  common  enough.  But,  howsomever,  it  will  look  a  little  un- 
natural,  as  you  say,  to  see  the  young  woman,  Mrs.  Tibby,  fon- 
dling arnl  looking sweel  upon  a  man  with  a  gray  beard.  Where- 
fore, upon    mature    'liberation,  I  '.vill    play  it    in   a  hoard  as   black 

US    j'-t. 

Quin      Hero    then,  masters,  take  your  parts,  and  eon  them 


386  ROSS'S   SPEAKER. 

over  with  as  much  re  ention  as  you  can,  that  you  may  be  ready 
to  rehearse  by  to-morrow  night. 

Bot.     But  w  here  must  we  rehearse,  Peter  Quince  ? 

Quin.  Why,  you  know,  if  we  should  go  to  rehearse  in  a 
garret  or  a  malt  loft,  we  should  but  draw  a  mob,  and  perhaps 
get  ourselves  taken  up  for  cromancers  ;  therefore  we  must  go 
to  the  palace  wood  and  do  it  by  moonlight.  Then,  you  know, 
we  shall  do  it  with  dacity  and  imposure  of  mind,  when  there  is 
nobody  to  deplaud  or  to  hiss. 

Bot.  Right,  Peter  Quince.  We  will  be  ready  for  you. 
(Exeunt.) 


Necessity  of  Education  in  a  Republic. 

[Extract  of  an  address  delivered  by  Judge  O.  N.  Ogden,  of  Alexandriaj 
La.,  on  the  occasion  of  laying  the  corner  stone  of  the  "  Louisiana  State 
Seminary  of  Learning," 

The  corner  stone,  which  has  been  found  by  the  square,  plumb, 
and  level  to  be  "  well  formed,  true,  and  trusty,"  is  that  of  a 
monument  dedicated,  on  this  day,  under  the  sanction  and  by  the 
authority  of  the  constitution  and  laws  of  the  State  of  Louisiana, 
to  the  genius  of  enlightened  liberty.  It  will  stand  here,  in  the 
midst  of  these  primeval  forests,  where,  at  no  remote  period,  the 
savage  Indian  kindled  his  camp  fire,  or  the  wild  beast  made  his 
lair,  a  light  and  landmark  of  the  era  when  the  education  of  the 
children  of  the  state  was  first  recognized  in  Louisiana  as  a  pub- 
lic duty,  and  provided  for  by  the  organic  law.  And  surely  no 
period  in  the  history  of  our  state  was  ever  better  entitled  to  be 
worthily  commemorated. 

It  is  not  commemorated  by  the  classic  chisel  of  the  sculptor, 
nor  illustrated  by  the  painter's  magic  art ;  not  cut  in  marble,  nor 
cast  in  bronze  ;  but  it  will  have  in  this  "  Seminary  of  Learning  " 
a  fit  testimonial  and  most  becoming  monument.  Memnon's 
statue  was  said  to  breathe  music  when  touched  by  the  first  rays 
of  the  morning  sun.  When  this  uprising  structure,  complete  in 
its  magnificent  proportions,  shall  be  devoted  to  its  great  purposes, 
the  sun  of  science  will  evoke  from  it  continually  the  eloquent 
music  of  Christian  instruction.  Filled  with  the  youth  of  all  por- 
tions of  Louisiana,  situated  in  a  delightful  and  healthy  region, 
and  occupying  a  site  very  nearly  in  the  exact  geographical 
center  of  the  state,  how  exceedingly  bright  is  the  promise  of 
future  usefulness  from  this  institution  ! 

Under  other  forms  of  government  than  ours,  tne  sJucetion  of 


NECESSITY     )F   EDUCATION   IN   A  REPUBLIC.       387 

the  people,  although  an  element  of  strength  and  greatness,  (for 
knowledge  is  power  every  where  and  under  all  circumstances,) 
is  not  indispensable  to  the  proper  administration  of  the  govern- 
ment, which  is  assigned  to  the  privileged  classes.  It  was  said, 
in  former  times,  that  the  monarchical  form  of  government  was 
the  strongest,  and  the  aristocratic  the  most  enlightened.  The 
fundamental  principle,  the  essential  element  of  both  the  strength 
and  the  enlightenment  of  our  democratic  system,  —  indeed,  the 
indispensable  condition  of  its  maintenance, —  is  the  education  and 
the  integrity  of  the  people. 

Not  with  us  is  the  king  the  state,  but  "  toe  the  people." 

«« What  constitutes  a  state  ? 
Not  high-raised  battlement  or  labored  mound, 

Thick  wall  or  moated  gate  ; 
Not  cities  proud,  with  spires  and  turrets  crowned ; 

Not  bays,  and  broad-armed  ports, 
Where,  laughing  at  the  storm,  rich  navies  ride; 

Not  starred  and  spangled  courts, 
Where  low-browed  baseness  wafts  perfume  to  pride. 

No ;  men,  high-minded  men 
With  powers  as  far  above  dull  brutes  embued, 

In  forest  brake  or  den, 
As  beasts  excel  cold  rocks  and  brambles  rude  ; 

Men  who  their  duties  know, 
But  know  their  rights,  and  knowing,  dare  maintain, 

Prevent  the  long-aimed  blow, 
And  crush  the  tyrant  while  they  rend  the  chain,  — 

These  constitute  a  state ; 
And  sovereign  law,  that  state's  collected  will, 

O'er  thrones  and  globes  elate, 
Bits  empress,  crowning  good,  repressing  ill." 


The  Same,  concluded, 

Resiing  directly,  as  our  government  does,  on  the  people, 
belonging  to  them,  and  administered  by  themselves  and  for  them- 
selves, the  enlightenment  of  the  masses  is  no  longer  a  matter  of 
mere  private  concernment,  but  of  general  interest.  The  son  of 
my  neighbor  may  be  called  to-morrow,  by  the  popular  voice,  to 
assist  in  framing  and  enacting  those  laws  by  which,  in  their 
equal  and  uniform  operation,  my  rights  of  person  and  property, 
and  yours,  and  those  of  all  of  us,  are  to  be  determined.  It  is 
then  manifestly  and  directly  to  my  interest  that  he  should  be 
well  qualified  to  perform  intelligently  the  high  duties  and  impor- 
tant functions  which  may  thus  devolve  upon  him. 

It  is  certainly  a  noble,  just,  and  true  conception  —  that  of  the 


3gg  ROSS'S   SPEAKER. 

duty  of  the  government  to  instruct  the  children  of  the  people 
We  have  military  and  naval  schools  supported  by  government 
expenditure.  Is  it  of  more  moment  that  the  government  should 
have  an  army  and  a  navy  for  its  protection,  and  should  maintain 
them  in  efficient  skill  and  discipline,  than  that  the  people  by  whom 
that  government  is  administered,  which  the  army  and  navy  are 
designed  to  uphold,  should  be  properly  fitted  for  the  importan, 
duties  assigned  them  by  the  constitution  and  the  laws  ? 

The  several  professions  are  open  only  to  those  who  are  duly 
qualified  for  their  exercise.  Are  statesmen  and  law  makers 
born,  as  is  said  of  poets  ?  The  pilots  and  engineers  who  officiate 
on  the  high  seas,  and  upon  the  thousand  arteries  of  internal  com- 
merce which  course  through  our  valleys,  are  required  to  be 
proficient  in  their  respective  arts.  While  thus  particular  and 
exacting  as  to  these,  are  we  to  be  careless  as  to  the  officers  and 
crew  of  our  goodly  ship  of  state,  in  which  the  fortunes  and  the 
nopes  of  all  of  us  are  embarked  ?  and  not  our  hopes  only,  but 
those  of  the  votaries  of  freedom  throughout  the  world,  who  are 
straining  their  eager  eyes  to  see  how  she  heads  and  how  she 
rides  the  waves,  fondly  hoping  that  she  will  be  the  ark  of  their 
safety  too. 

The  corner  stone  of  the  great  fabric  of  American  free  govern- 
ment  is  equality.  We  promulgated,  in  1776,  the  dogma,  that  all 
men  are  created  free  and  equal.  We  can  not  limit,  and  would 
not  if  we  could,  the  exercise  and  enjoyment  of  political  franchises 
and  privileges  to  the  educated  classes  ;  but  we  can,  and  we 
ought  to,  diffuse  throughout  the  whole  social  circle  the  light  of 
education,  so  that  there  shall  be  no  chamber  or  gallery,  no 
nook  or  corner  of  our  great  common  dwelling,  —  our  country,  — 
where  Wisdom  shall  not  hang  her  lamp  to  guide  the  feet  of  our 
children. 

"  Were  half  the  power  that  fills  the  world  with  terror, 

Were  half  the  wealth  bestowed  on  camps  and  courts, 
Given  to  redeem  the  human  mind  from  error, 

There  were  no  need  of  arsenals  and  forts." 


Ode  to  the  South.  —  Miss  louisb  Pagb, 

The  South !  the  far  South !  yes,  the  story-famed  Soulb  ! 

O,  the  bright,  sunny  climate  for  me, 
Where  the  flowers  in  wildest  luxuriance  grow, 

And  the  mocking  bird's  carol  is  free  ! 
There's  a  charm  in  the  strain —  I  will  sing  it  again  : 

O,  the  bright  sunny  climate  for  me ! 


THE   BEER  TRIAL.  389 

The  South  !  Lie  mild  South !  0,  the  genial  South ! 

Where  the  winter  makes  transient  its  stay ; 
Where  the  wild  peach  and  forest  magnolia  keep 

Their  green  vigils  by  night  and  by  day, 
O'er  the  summer's  repose,  till  it  wake  from  its  doze, 

And  smile  the  cold  shadows  away. 

The  South  !  the  warm  South !  O,  the  bright,  sunny  South ! 

Where  the  soft,  balmy  breezes  inspire 
On  the  pale  cheek  of  invalid -languishing,  health, 

And  relight  in  the  bosom  its  fire  ! 
The  weak  spirit  once  more  lightly  bounds,  as  of  yore, 

And  its  gloomy  forebodings  expire. 

The  South  !  the  kind  South !  the  ingenuous  South ! 

Where  the  stranger,  from  home  far  away, 
Finds  a  greeting  of  friendship  confidingly  true, 

And  a  thousand  blest  welcomes  to  stay. 
There's  a  witching,  bright  spell  makes  the  lonely  heart  swe\i 

With  a  rapture  both  happy  and  gay. 

The  South!  the  famed  South  !  O,  the  bard-chanted  South  ! 

In  my  childhood's    wee,    roseate  hours, 
I  had  fairy-bright  visions  —  entrancingly  bright  — 

Of  thy  gardens  and  evergreen  bowers. 
Now  the  day-dreams  of  yore  mock  my  vision  no  more  — 

I'm  at  home  with  thy  breezes  and  flowers. 

The  South  !  the  loved  South  !  Heaven  smile  on  the  South  ! 

When  I'm  far,  far  away  from  thy  clime, 
I'll  be  true  to  thy  praises,  unchangingly  true, 

And  I'll  mention  thy  fortunes  with  mine 
To  my  Father  above,  at  the  throne  of  his  love, 

When  I  pray  for  his  blessings  divine. 


The  Beer   Trial.  —  Tempekancb  Dlaxoocbs- 

William.  1  saw  you  this  morning,  James,  go  into  a  shop 
where  Albany  cream  ale  was  advertised,  and  buy  a  glass.  1 
lid  not  expect  you  would  do  that,  us  you  belong  to  the  Temper- 
»na>  Society. 


590  ROSS'S  SPEAKER. 

James.  I'm  none  of  y  jur  teetotalers,  1  tell  you,  William.  I 
signed  the  ardent  spirit  pledge,  and  I'll  stick  to  that,  up  to  any 
of  you.  But  I  like  good  cider  and  alo.  Mother  says  it  purifies 
the  blood  ;  and  then  it  braces  me  up,  and  makes  me  feel  so  nice 
and  strong  here,  {placing  his  hand  on  his  stomach.) 

Will.  You  think  it  purifies  the  blood,  —  do  you?  Have  you 
ever  read  the  famous  beer  trial  ?  and  do  you  know  how  your 
precious  Albany  cream  ale  is  made?  If  you  have  not,  1  can 
lend  it  to  you  ;  the  reading  of  it  may  make  you  think  that 
there  is  something  gets  into  the  blood  which  might  as  well  be 
kept  out. 

James.     Beer  trial  ?  —  what  is  that  ?     I  never  heard  of  it. 

Will.  Why,  the  trial  of  Mr.  Delavan,  who  was  sued  by  ihe 
Albany  brewers,  who  brew  your  favorite  cream  ale,  for  saying 
that  they  made  it  out  of  such  filthy  water  that  no  dog  nor  horse 
would  drink  it;  water  that  was  as  thick  as  cream  —  the  reason, 
T  suppose,  it  is  called  cream  ale. 

James.  None  of  your  talking  so.  1  don't  believe  a  word  of 
it.  1  asked  why  they  called  it  cream  ale,  and  they  said  it  was 
because  the  foam  looked  yellow,  like  cream. 

Will.  I  should  think  it  would  lock  green  instead  of  yellow, 
for  the  top  of  the  pond  was  green ;  but  there  was  enough  in  the 
pond  under  the  green  cover  to  give  the  yellow  tinge. 

James.  Now,  William,  1  won't  bear  it.  1  say  the  ale  is  good 
ale.     None  of  your  nonsense. 

Will.  Well,  James,  read  for  yourself.  If  you  are  pleased  to 
drink  beer  made  out  of  a  pond  which  is  the  receptacle  of  the 
wash  of  slaughter  houses  and  graveyards,  and  where  are  thrown 
all  manner  of  dead  beasts,  you  may.     1  say, — 

"  Water,  pure  water,  pure  water  for  me." 

But  every  one  to  his  liking  ;  as  my  Latin  book  says,  De  gustibus 
non  disputandum. 

James.  Well,  William,  if  it  is  as  you  say,  I'll  drink  no  more 
cream  ale.     Let  me  see  the  trial. 

Will.  Here  it  is.  Read  it  through.  But  mind,  now,  don'1 
take  your  hand  off  your  stomach,  for  you  will  want  something  tc 
brace  you  up,  better  than  cream  ale,  before  you  get  through. 


MY  AUNT.  391 


The  Spirit  of  Human  Liberty.— Wimtml 

The  spirit  of  human  liberty  and  of  free  government,  nurtured 
and  grown  into  strength  and  beauty  in  America,  has  stretched  its 
course  into  the  midst  of  the  nations.  Like  an  emanation  from 
Heaven,  it  has  gone  forth,  and  it  will  not  return  void.  It  must 
change,  it  is  fast  changing,  the  face  of  the  earth.  Our  great, 
our  high  duty,  is  to  show,  in  our  own  examples,  that  this  spirit  is 
a  spirit  of  health  as  well  as  a  spirit  of  power  ;  that  its  benignity  is 
as  great  as  its  strength  ;  that  its  efficiency  to  secure  individual 
rights,  social  relations,  and  moral  order,  is  equal  to  the  irresis- 
tible force  with  which  it  prostrates  principalities  and  powers. 
The  world,  at  this  moment,  is  regarding  us  with  a  willing,  but 
something  of  a  fearful  admiration.  Its  deep  and  awful  anxiety 
is  to  learn  whether  free  states  may  be  stable  as  well  as  free ; 
whether  popular  power  may  be  trusted  as  well  as  feared ;  in 
short,  whether  wise,  regular,  and  virtuous  self-government  is  a 
vision  for  the  contemplation  of  theorists,  or  a  truth,  established, 
illustrated,  and  brought  into  practice,  in  the  country  of  Wash- 
ington. 

For  th8  earth  which  we  inhabit,  and  the  whole  circie  of  the 
sun,  for  ».'.  the  unborn  races  of  mankind,  we  seem  to  hold  in 
our  hands,  for  their  weal  or  woe,  the  fate  of  this  experiment.  If 
we  fail,  who  shall  venture  the  repetition  ?  If  our  example  shall 
prove  to  be  one,  not  of  encouragement,  but  of  terror,  not  fit  to 
be  imitated,  but  fit  only  to  be  shunned,  where  else  shall  the  world 
look  for  free  models  ?  If  this  great  western  sun  be  struck  out  of 
the  firmament,  at  what  other  fountain  shall  the  lamp  of  liberty 
hereafter  be  lighted  ?  What  other  orb  shall  emit  a  ray  to  glim- 
mer, even,  on  the  darkness  of  the  world  ? 


My  Aunt.  —  o.  w.  Holmm. 

My  aunt !  my  dear  unmarried  aunt ! 

Long  years  have  o'er  her  flown; 
Yet  still  she  strains  the  aching  clasp 

That  binds  her  virgin  zone  : 
!  know  it  hurts  her,  though  she  looks 

As  cheerful  as  she  Can  ; 
Her  waist  is  ampler  than  her  life, 

For  life  is  but  n  span. 


892  ROSS'S   Sl'EAKEK. 

My  aunt !  my  poor  deluded  aunt ! 

Her  hair  is  almost  gray  : 
Why  will  she  train  that  winter  curl 

In  such  a  spring-like  way  ? 
How  can  she  lay  her  glasses  down, 

And  say  she  reads  as  well, 
When,  through  a  double  convex  lens, 

She  just  makes  out  to  spell  ? 

Her  father  —  grandpapa,  forgive 

This  erring  lip  its  smiles — 
Vowed  she  would  make  the  finest  girl 

Within  a  hundred  miles. 
He  sent  her  to  a  stylish  school, — 

'Twas  in  her  thirteenth  June,  — 
And  with  her,  as  the  rules  required, 

"Two  towels  and  a  spoon." 

They  braced  my  aunt  against  a  board, 

To  make  her  straight  and  tall ; 
They  laced  her  up,  they  starved  her  down, 

To  make  her  light  and  small ; 
They  pinched  her  feet,  they  singed  her  hair 

They  screwed  it  up  with  pins ;  — 
O,  never  mortal  suffered  more 

In  penance  for  her  sins. 

So  when  my  precious  aunt  was  done, 

My  grandsire  brought  her  back, 
(By  daylight,  lest  some  rabid  youth 

Might  follow  on  the  track.) 
"  Ah,"  said  my  grandsire,  as  he  shook 

Some  powder  in  his  pan, 
"  What  could  this  lovely  creature  do 

Against  a  desperate  man?" 

Alas  !  nor  chariot,  nor  barouche, 

Nor  bandit  cavalcade, 
Tore  from  the  father's  trembling  arms 

His  all-accomplished  maid. 
For  her  how  happy  had  it  been ! 

And  Heaven  had  spared  to  me 
To  see  one  sad,  ungathered  rose 

On  my  ancestral  tree 


OUK   COUNTRY'S  ORIGIN. 


Our  Country's  Origin.  —Webster. 

Our  fathers  came  hither  to  a  land  from  which  they  were 
never  to  return.  Hither  they  had  brought,  and  here  they  were  to 
fix,  their  hopes,  their  attachments,  and  their  objects.  Some  natural 
tears  they  shed,  as  they  left  the  pleasant  abodes  cf  their  fathers, 
and  some  emotions  they  suppressed,  when  the  white  cliffs  of 
their  native  country,  now  seen  for  the  last  time,  grew  dim  to 
their  sight. 

A  new  existence  awaited  them  here  ;  and  when  they  saw  these 
shores,  rough,  cold,  barbarous,  and  barren,  as  then  they  were, 
they  beheld  their  country.  Before  they  reached  the  shore,  they 
had  established  the  elements  of  a  social  system,  and  at  a  much 
earlier  period  had  settled  their  forms  of  religious  worship.  At 
the  moment  of  their  landing,  therefore,  they  possessed  institu- 
tions of  government  and  institutions  of  religion.  The  morning 
that  beamed  on  the  first  night  of  their  repose  saw  the  Pilgrims 
already  established  in  their  country.  There  were  political  insti- 
tutions, and  civil  liberty,  and  religious  worship.  Poetry  has 
fancied  nothing  in  the  wanderings  of  heroes  so  distinct  and  char- 
acteristic. 

Here  was  man  indeed  unprotected,  and  unprovided  for,  on  the 
shore  of  a  rude  and  fearful  wilderness  ;  but  it  was  politic,  intel- 
ligent, and  educated  man.  Every  thing  was  civilized  but  the 
physical  world.  Institutions  containing  in  substance  all  that  ages 
had  done  for  human  government  were  established  in  a  forest. 
Cultivated  mind  was  to  act  on  uncultivated  nature ;  and,  more 
than  all,  a  government  and  a  country  were  to  commence  with 
.he  very  first  foundations  laid  under  the  divine  light  of  the  Chris- 
tian religion.  Happy  auspices  of  a  happy  futurity  !  Who  would 
wish  that  his  country's  existence  had  otherwise  begun?  Who 
would  desire  the  power  of  going  back  to  the  ages  of  fable  ?  Who 
would  wish  for  an  origin  obscured  in  the  darkness  of  antiquity  ? 
Who  would  wish  for  other  emblazoning  of  his  country's  heraldry 
jy  other  ornaments  of  her  genealogy,  than  to  be  able  to  say  thai 
ner  first  existence  was  with  intelligence  ;  her  first  breath  tho 
nspirations  of  liberty;  her  first  principle  the  truth  of  divin 
religion  r 


394  ROSS'S   SPEAKER. 


The  Progress  of  Liberty.  —  Wuanu. 

Mn  President,  the  contest  for  ages  has  been  to  rescue  liberty 
from  ihe  grasp  of  executive  power.  Whoever  has  engaged  in 
her  sacred  cause,  from  the  days  of  the  downfall  of  those  great 
aristocracies  which  had  stood  between  the  king  and  the  people 
to  the  time  of  our  own  independence,  has  struggled  for  the 
accomplishment  of  that  single  object.  On  the  long  list  of  the 
champions  of  human  freedom  there  is  not  one  name  dimmed  by 
the  reproach  of  advocating  the  extension  of  executive  authority ; 
on  the  contrary,  the  uniform  and  steady  purpose  of  all  such 
champions  has  been  to  limit  and  restrain  it.  To  this  end,  the 
spirit  of  liberty,  growing  more  and  more  enlightened,  and  more 
and  more  vigorous  from  age  to  age,  has  been  battering  for  cen- 
turies against  the  solid  butments  of  the  feudal  system.  To  this 
end,  all  that  could  be  gained  from  the  imprudence,  snatched 
from  the  weakness,  or  wrung  from  the  necessities  of  crowned 
heads,  has  been  carefully  gathered  up,  secured,  and  hoarded  as 
the  rich  treasures,  the  very  jewels  of  liberty. 

To  this  end,  popular  and  representative  right  has  kept  up  its 
warfare  against  prerogative  with  various  success ;  sometimes 
writing  the  history  of  a  whole  age  in  blood ;  sometimes  witness- 
ing the  martyrdom  of  Sydneys  and  Russells ;  often  baffled  and 
repulsed,  but  still  gaining,  on  the  whole,  and  holding  what  it 
gained  with  a  grasp  which  nothing  but  the  complete  extinction  of 
its  own  being  could  compel  it  to  relinquish.  At  length  the  great 
conquest  over  executive  power,  in  the  leading  western  states  of 
Europe,  has  been  accomplished.  The  feudal  system,  like  other 
slupendous  fabrics  of  past  ages,  is  known  only  by  the  rubbish 
which  it  has  left  behind  it.  Crowned  heads  have  been  compelled 
to  submit  to  the  restraints  of  law,  and  the  people,  with  that  intel- 
ligence and  that  spirit  which  make  their  voice  resistless,  have 
been  able  to  say  to  prerogative,  "  Thus  far  shalt  thou  come,  and 
no  farther."  I  need  hardly  say,  sir,  that  into  the  full  enjoyment 
of  all  which  Europe  has  reached  only  through  such  slow  and 
painful  steps,  we  sprang  at  once,  by  the  declaration  of  independ- 
ence, and  by  the  establishment  of  free  representative  govern- 
ments ;  governments  borrowing  more  or  less  from  the  models  of 
other  free  states,  but  strengthened,  secured,  improved  in  iheir 
symmetry,  and  deepened  in  their  foundation,  by  those  great  men 
of  our  own  country,  whose  names  will  be  as  familiar  to  future 
times  as  if  they  were  written  on  the  arch  of  the  sky. 


l'HE   CHARACTER  OF  WASHliNGTON.  3y5 


The  Character  of  Washington.—  Wbmtbb. 

America  has  furnished  to  the  world  the  character  of  Wash- 
ington. And  if  our  American  institutions  had  done  nothing  else, 
that  alone  would  have  entitled  them  to  the  respect  of  mankind. 
Washington!  —  "First  in  war,  first  in  peace,  and  first  in  the 
hearts  of  his  countrymen  !  " — Washington  is  all  our  own  !  The 
enthusiastic  veneration  and  regard  in  which  the  people  of  the 
United  States  hold  him  prove  them  to  be  worthy  of  such  a 
countryman ;  while  his  reputation  abroad  reflects  the  highest 
honor  on  his  country  and  its  institutions.  I  would  cheerfully  put 
the  question  to-day  to  the  intelligence  of  Europe  and  the  world, 
what  character  of  the  century,  upon  the  whole,  stands  out  in  the 
relief  of  history  most  pure,  most  respectable,  most  sublime ;  and 
I  doubt  not,  that,  by  a  suffrage  approaching  to  unanimity,  the 
answer  would  be,  Washington  ! 

This  structure,*  by  its  uprightness,  its  solidity,  its  durability,  is 
no  unfit  emblem  of  his  character.  His  public  virtues  and  public 
principles  were  as  firm  as  the  earth  on  which  it  stands;  his  per- 
sonal motives  as  pure  as  the  serene  heaven  in  which  its  summi* 
is  lost.  But,  indeed,  though  a  fit,  it  is  an  inadequate  emblem. 
Towering  high  above  the  column  which  our  hands  have  builded, 
beheld,  not  by  the  inhabitants  of  a  single  city,  or  a  single  state, 
ascends  the  colossal  grandeur  of  his  character,  and  his  life.  In 
all  the  constituents  of  the  one,  in  all  the  acts  of  the  other,  in  all 
its  titles  to  immortal  love,  admiration,  and  renown,  it  is  an 
American  production.  It  is  the  embodiment  and  vindication  of 
our  Transatlantic  liberty.  Born  upon  our  soil,  of  parents  also 
born  upon  it ;  never  for  a  moment  having  had  a  sight  of  the  old 
world  ;  instructed,  according  to  the  modes  of  his  time,  only  in  the 
spare,  plain,  but  wholesome  elementary  knowledge  which  our 
institutions  provide  for  the  children  of  the  people ;  growing  up 
txmeath  and  penetrated  by  the  genuine  influences  of  American 
society ;  growing  up  amidst  our  expanding,  but  not  luxurious, 
civilization  ;  partaking  in  our  great  destiny  of  labor,  our  long 
contest  with  unreclaimed  nature  and  uncivilized  man,  our  agony 
oc  glory,  the  war  of  independence,  our  great  victory  of  peace,  the 
formation  of  the  Union,  and  the  establishment  of  the  constitution 
—  hi  is  all,  all  our  own  !     That  crowded  and  glorious  ife,— 

*  lianker  11-11  Mnriuramt 


896  ROSS'S   SPEAKER. 

"  Where  multitudes  of  virtues  pass  a^ong, 
Each  pressing  foremost,  in  the  mighty  throng, 
Contending  to  be  seen,  then  making  room 
For  greater  multitudes  that  were  to  come,"  — 

that  life  was  the  life  of  an  American  citizen. 

I  claim  him  for  America.  In  all  the  perils,  in  every  darkened 
moment  of  the  state,  in  the  midst  of  the  reproaches  of  enemies 
and  the  misgiving  of  friends,  I  turn  to  that  transcendent  name  fcr 
courage  and  for  consolation.  To  him  who  denies,  or  doubts, 
whether  our  fervid  liberty  can  be  combined  with  law,  with  or- 
der, with  the  security  of  property,  with  the  pursuit  and  advance- 
ment of  happiness  ;  to  him  who  denies  that  our  institutions  are 
capable  of  producing  exaltation  of  soul,  and  the  passion  of  true 
glory ;  to  him  who  denies  that  we  have  contributed  any  thing  to 
the  stock  of  great  lessons  and  great  examples,  —  to  all  these  [ 
renly  by  pointing  to  Washington  ! 


The  Responsibility  of  Americans.  —  Webster. 

This  lovely  land,  this  glorious  liberty,  these  benign  institu- 
tions, the  dear  purchase  of  our  fathers,  are  ours  —  ours  to  enjov 
nurs  to  preserve,  ours  to  transmit.  Generations  past  and  gen- 
erations to  come  hold  us  responsible  for  this  sacred  trust.  Our 
fathers  from  behind  admonish  us,  with  their  anxious  paternal 
voices  ;  posterity  calls  out  to  us  from  the  bosom  of  the  future ; 
the  world  turns  hither  its  solicitous  eye* ,  all,  all  conjure  us  to 
act  wisely  and  faithfully  in  the  relation  v  rich  we  sustain.  We 
can  never,  indeed,  pay  the  debt  which  is  upon  us  ;  but  by  virtue, 
by  morality,  by  religion,  by  the  cultivation  of  every  good  prin- 
ciple and  every  good  habit,  we  may  hope  to  enjoy  the  blessing 
through  our  day,  and  to  leave  it  unimpaired  to  our  children. 
Let  us  feel  deeply  how  much  of  what  we  are,  and  of  what  we 
possess,  we  owe  to  this  liberty  and  these  institutions  of  govern- 
ment. Nature  has,  indeed,  given  us  a  soil  which  yields  boun- 
teously to  the  hands  of  industry ;  the  mighty  and  fruitful  ocean 
is  before  us,  and  the  skies  over  our  heads  shed  health  and  vigor. 
Rut  what  are  lands,  and  seas,  and  skies,  to  civilized  men,  with- 
out  society,  without  knowledge,  without  morals,  without  religious 
culture  ?  and  how  can  these  be  enjoyed,  in  all  thei*-  extent,  ar  d 
all  their  excellence,  but  under  the  protection  of  wise  institutions 
and  a  free  government?  There  is  not  ono  of  us,  there  is  noi 
one  of  us  here  present,  who  does  not,  at  this  moment,  and  at 


THE   DEEP.  ,qcfl 

every  moment,  experience  in  his  own  condition,  and  in  the  con 
dition  of  those  most  near  and  dear  to  him,  the  influence  and  the 
benefit  of  this  liberty  and  these  institutions.  Let  us  then  acknowl- 
edge the  blessing ;  let  us  feel  it  deeply  and  powerfully ;  let  us 
cherish  a  strong  affection  for  it,  and  resolve  to  maintain  and  per- 
petuate it.  The  blood  of  our  fathers — let  it  not  have  been  shed 
in  vain  ;  the  great  hope  of  posterity —  let  it  not  be  blasted. 


The  Deep.  —  Braihasd. 

There's  beauty  in  the  deep :  — 
The  wave  is  bluer  than  the  sky  ; 
And  though  the  light  shine  bright  on  high, 
More  softlv  do  the  sea-gems  glow 
That  sparki'e  in  the  depths  below ; 
The  rainbow's  tints  are  only  made 
When  on  the  waters  they  are  laid, 
And  sun  and  moon  most  sweetly  shine 
Upon  the  ocean's  level  brine. 

There's  beauty  in  the  deep. 

There's  music  in  the  deep  :  — 
h  is  not  in  the  surf's  rough  roar, 
Nor  in  the  whispering,  shelly  shore  — 
They  are  but  earthly  sounds,  that  tell 
How  little  of  the  sea-nymph's  shell, 
That  sends  its  loud,  clear  note  nbroad, 
Or  winds  its  softness  through  the  flood, 
Echoes  through  groves  with  coral  gay, 
And  dies,  on  spongy  banks,  away. 

There's  music  in  the  deep. 

There's  quiet  in  the  deep  :  — 
Above,  let  tides  and  tempests  rave 
And  earth-born  whirlwinds  w;ike  the  wave 
Above,  let  care  and  fear  contend 
With  sin  and  sorrow  to  the  end  : 
Here,  far  beneath  the  tainted  foam, 
That  frets  above  our  peaceful  home, 
We  dream  in  joy,  ana  wake  in  love, 
Nor  know  the  rage  thai  yells  above. 

There's  quiel  in  the  deep. 


a9f>  KoJbS  BFEAKfcR. 


Patriotic  Triumph. — m  axct. 

The  citizins  of  America  celebrate  that  day  which  gave  birth 
to  their  liberties.  The  recollection  of  this  event,  replete  with 
consequences  so  beneficial  to  mankind,  swells  every  heart  with 
joy,  and  fills  every  tongue  with  praise.  We  celebrate  not  the 
sanguinary  exploits  of  a  tyrant  to  subjugate  and  enslave  millions 
of  his  fellow-creatures  we  celebrate  neither  the  birth  nor  the 
coronation  of  that  phantcm  styled  a  king  ;  but  the  resurrection  of 
liberty,  the  emancipation  of  mankind,  the  regeneration  of  the 
world.  These  are  the  sources  of  our  joy,  these  the  causes  of 
our  triumph.  We  pay  no  homage  at  the  tomb  of  kings,  to  sub 
lime  our  feelings  ;  we  trace  no  line  of  illustrious  ancestors,  to 
support  our  dignity ;  we  recur  to  no  usages  sanctioned  by  the 
authority  of  the  great,  to  protect  our  rejoicing;  no,  we  love 
liberty,  we  glory  in  the  rights  of  men,  we  glory  in  independence. 
On  whatever  part  of  God's  creation  a  human  form  pines  under 
chains,  there  Americans  drop  their  tears. 

A  dark  cloud  once  shaded  this  beautiful  quarter  of  the  globe. 
Consternation  for  a  while  agitated  the  hearts  of  the  inhabitants. 
War  desolated  our  fields,  and  buried  our  vales  in  blood.  But 
the  dayspring  from  on  high  soon  opened  upon  us  its  glittering 
portals.  The  angel  of  liberty,  descending,  dropped  on  Washing- 
ton's brow  the  wreath  of  victory,  and  stamped  on  Ame  ican  free- 
dom the  seal  of  omnipotence.  The  darkness  is  past,  and  the  true 
light  now  shines,  to  enliven  and  rejoice  mankind.  We  tread  a 
new  earth,  in  which  dwelleth  righteousness ;  and  view  a  new 
heaven,  flaming  with  inextinguishable  staffs.  Our  feet  will  no 
more  descend  into  the  vale  of  oppressions,  our  shoulders  will  no 
more  bend  under  the  weight  of  a  foreign  domination  as  cruel  as  it 
was  unjust.  Well  may  we  rejoice  at  the  return  of  this  glorious 
anniversary ;  a  day  dear  to  every  American ;  a  day  to  be  had 
in  everlasting  remembrance  ;  a  day  whose  light  circulates  oy 
through  the  hearts  of  all  republicans,  and  terror  though  .he 
hearts  of  all  tyrants. 


The  Infant  Orator. 

You'd  scarce  expect  one  of  my  age 
To  speak  in  public  on  the  stage ; 
And  if  I  chance  to  fall  below 
Demosthenes  or  Cicero, 


PARODY  ON  "THE  DEEP."  399 

Don't  view  me  with  a  critic's  eye, 

But  pass  my  imperfections  by. 

Large  streams  from  little  fountains  flow ; 

Tall  oaks  from  little  acorns  grow : 

And  though  I  now  am  small  and  young, 

Of  judgment  weak,  and  feeble  tongue, 

Yet  all  great  learned  men  like  me 

Once  learned  to  read  their  A,  B,  C. 

But  why  may  not  Columbia's  soil 

Rear  men  as  great  as  Britain's  isle, 

Exceed  what  Greece  and  Rome  have  done. 

Or  any  land  beneath  the  sun  ? 

Mayn't  Louisiana  boast  as  great 

As  any  other  sister  state  ? 

Or  where's  the  town,  go  far  and  near, 

That  does  not  find  a  rival  here  ? 

Or  where's  the  boy,  but  three  feet  high, 

Who's  made  improvements  more  than  I  ? 

These  thoughts  inspire  my  youthful  mind 

To  be  the  greatest  of  mankind  — 

Great,  not  like  Caesar,  stained  with  blood  ; 

But  only  great  as  I  am  good. 


Parody  on  the  foregoing. 

You'd  scarce  expect  a  boy  like  me 
To  get  up  here  where  all  can  see, 
And  make  a  speech  as  well  as  those 
Who  wear  the  largest  kind  of  clothes. 
1  think  it  was  in  olden  time 
That  some  one  said,  in  funny  rhyme, 
"  Tall  aches  from  little  toe-corns  grow ; 
Large  screams  from  little  children  flow." 
And  if  that  rhymer  told  the  truth, 
Though  1  am  now  a  little  youth, 
Perhaps  I'll  make  as  great  a  noise 
As  some  who  are  much  larger  boys. 
I  will  not  speak  of  Greece  and  Rome, 
But  tell  you  what  I've  learned  at  home, 
And  what  was  taught  me  when  at  school, 
While  sitting  on  a  bench  or  stool : 


400  ROSS'S   SPEAKER. 

I've  learned  to  talk,  and  read,  and  spell, 
And  don't  you  think  that's  pretty  well 
For  such  a  little  boy  as  I  ? 
But  I  must  leave  you  —  so  good  by 


The  Intemperate  Husband.  —  Spraqub. 

It  is,  my  friends,  in  the  degradation  of  a  husband  by  intern 
perance,  where  she  who  has  ventured  every  thing  feels  that  all 
is  lost.  Who  shall  protect  her  when  the  husband  of  her  choice 
insults  and  oppresses  her  ?  What  shall  delight  her,  when  she 
shrinks  from  the  sight  of  his  face  and  trembles  at  the  sound  of 
his  voice  ?  The  hearth  is  indeed  dark  that  he  has  made  deso- 
late. There,  through  the  dull  midnight  hour,  her  griefs  are 
whispered  to  herself;  her  bruised  heart  bleeds  in  secret.  There, 
while  the  cruel  author  of  her  distress  is  drowned  in  distant  rev- 
elry, she  holds  her  solitary  vigil,  waiting  yet  dreading  his  return, 
that  is  only  to  wring  from  her  by  unkindness  tears  even  more 
scalding  than  those  she  sheds  over  his  transgression. 

To  fling  a  deeper  gloom  across  the  present,  memory  turns 
back  and  broods  upon  the  past.  The  joys  of  other  days  come 
over  her,  as  if  only  to  mock  her  grieved  and  weary  spirit.  She 
recalls  the  ardent  lover,  whose  graces  won  her  from  the  home 
of  her  infancy ;  the  enraptured  father,  who  bent  with  such  de- 
light over  his  new-born  children  ;  and  she  asks  if  this  can  be  the 
same  —  this  sunken  being,  who  has  now  nothing  for  her  but  the 
sot's  disgusting  brutality  ;  nothing  for  those  abashed  and  trem- 
bling children  but  the  sot's  disgusting  example. 

Can  we  wonder  that,  amid  these  agonizing  moments,  the  tender 
cords  of  violated  affection  should  snap  asunder  ?  that  the  scorned 
and  deserted  wife  should  confess,  "  there  is  no  killing  like 
that  which  kills  the  heart  ?  "  that  though  it  would  have  been 
hard  to  kiss  for  the  last  time  the  cold  lips  of  a  dead  husband, 
and  lay  his  body  forever  in  the  dust,  it  is  harder  still  to  be- 
hold him  so  debasing  life  that  even  death  would  be  greeted  in 
mercy  ? 

Had  he  died  in  the  light  of  his  goodness,  bequeathing  to  his 
family  the  inheritance  of  an  untarnished  name  and  the  example 
of  virtues  that  should  blossom  for  his  sons  and  daughters  from 
he  tomb,  though  she  would  have  wept  bitterly  indeed,  the  lears 
of  grief  would  not  have  been  also  the  tears  of  shame.  She 
beholds  him,  fallen  from  the  station  he  once  adorned,  degradfd 


THE   DRUNKARD'S   DAUGHTER.  401 

from  eminence  to  ignominy ;  at  home  turning  his  dwelling  to 
darkness  and  its  holy  endearments  to  mockery  ;  ahroad,  thrust 
from  the  companionship  of  the  worthy,  a  self-branded  outlaw. 


The  Drunkard  Js  Daughter.  —  o.  w.  Bvhoat 

Out  in  the  street,  with  naked  feet, 

I  saw  the  drunkard's  daughter  ; 
Her  tattered  shawl  was  thin  and  small ; 

She  little  knew,  for  no  one  taught  her. 

Her  skin  was  fair,  her  auburn  hair 
Was  blown  about  her  pretty  forehead  ; 

Her  sad,  white  face  wore  sorrow's  trace, 
And  want  and  woe  that  were  not  borrowed. 

Heart-broken  child,  she  seldom  smiled  ; 

Hope  promised  her  no  bright  to-morrow  ; 
Or  if  its  light  flashed  on  her  night, 

Then  came  up  darker  clouds  of  sorrow. 

She  softly  said,  "  We  have  no  bread, 
No  wood  to  keep  the  fire  burning." 

The  child  was  ill ;  the  winds  so  chill, 
Her  thin,  cold  blood  to  ice  was  turning. 

But  men  well  fed  and  warmly  clad, 
And  ladies  robed  in  richest  fashion, 

Passed  on  the  side,  where  no  one  cried 
To  them  for  pity  or  compassion. 

That  long  night  fled,  and  then  the  light 

Of  rosy  day,  in  beauty  shining, 
Set  dome,  and  spire,  and  roof  on  fire, 

And  shone  on  one  beyond  repining. 

Asleep,  alone,  as  cold  as  stone, 
Where  no  dear  parent  sought  her, 

j)  winding  sheet  of  snow  and  sleet 

Was  found  the  drunkard's  lifeless  daughter 
26 


402  ROSS'S   SPEAJtER. 


Baneful  Effects  of  Parly  Spirit. 

Rev.  Wilbuk  Fisk,  D.  D. 

We  see  that  man  has  a  spirit  which  is  not  easily  broken  down 
by  oppression.  Let  us  inquire  whether  it  can  be  more  easily 
satisfied  by  indulgence.  And  in  every  step  of  this  inquiry  we 
shall  find  that  no  miser  ever  had  gold  enough,  no  office  seeker 
ever  yet  had  honor  enough,  no  conqueror  ever  yet  subdued 
kingdoms  enough.  When  the  rich  man  had  filled  his  store- 
houses,  he  must  pull  down  and  build  larger.  When  Caesar  had 
conquered  all  his  enemies,  he  must  enslave  his  friends.  When 
Bonaparte  had  become  the  Emperor  of  France,  he  aspired  to  the 
throne  of  all  Europe.  Facts,  a  thousand  facts,  in  every  age  and 
among  all  classes,  prove  that  such  is  the  ambitious  nature  of  the 
soul,  such  the  increasing  compass  of  its  vast  desires,  that  the 
material  universe,  with  all  its  vastness,  richness,  and  variety, 
can  not  satisfy  it.  Nor  is  it  in  the  power  of  the  governments  of 
this  world,  in  their  most  perfect  forms,  so  to  interest  the  feelings, 
so  to  regulate  the  desires,  so  to  restrain  the  passions,  or  so  to 
divert,  or  charm,  or  chain  the  souls  of  a  whole  community,  but 
that  these  latent  and  ungovernable  fires  will  sooner  or  later 
burst  out,  and  endanger  the  whole  body  politic. 

I  know  it  has  been  supposed  by  the  politicians,  that  in  an 
intelligent  and  well-educated  community  a  government  might  be 
so  constituted,  by  a  proper  balance  of  power,  by  equal  repre- 
sentation, and  by  leaving  open  the  avenues  to  office  and  wealth 
for  a  fair  and  honorable  competition  among  all  classes,  as  to 
perpetuate  the  system  to  the  latest  posterity.  Such  a  system  of 
government,  it  is  acknowledged,  is  the  most  likely  to  continue  ; 
but  all  these  political  and  literary  helps,  unaided  by  the  kingdom 
of  Christ,  will  not  secure  any  community  from  revolution  and 
ruin.  And  he  knows  but  little  of  the  nature  of  man  who  judges 
otherwise.  What  has  been  the  fate  of  the  ancient  republics  ? 
They  have  been  dissolved  by  this  same  restless  and  disorgan- 
izing spirit  of  which  we  have  been  speaking.  And  do  we  not 
see  the  same  dangerous  spirit  in  our  own  comparatively  happy 
and  strongly  constituted  republic  ? 

The  wise  framers  of  our  excellent  political  institutions,  like 
the  eclectic  philosophers,  have  selected  the  best  parts  out  of  all 
the  systems  which  preceded  them,  and  to  these  have  added 
others,  according  to  the  suggestions  of  their  own  wisdom  or  the 
leadings  of  Providence,  and  have  formed  the  whole  into  a  con- 
stitution, the  most  perfect  the  world  has  ever  witnessed.     Here 


THE   DESTINY   OF   AMERICA.  403 

every  thing  that  is  rational  in  political  liberty  is  enjoyed  ;  here 
the  most  sal  Jtary  checks  and  restraints  that  have  yet  been  dis- 
covered are  laid  upon  men  in  office.  Here  the  road  to  honor 
and  wealth  is  open  to  all ;  and  here  is  general  intelligence.  But 
nere  man  is  found  to  possess  the  same  nature  as  elsewhere ; 
and  the  stirrings  of  his  restless  spirit  have  already  disturbed  the 
peace  of  society,  and  portend  future  convulsions.  Party  spirit  is 
begotten  ;  ambitious  views  are  engendered,  and  fed,  and  in- 
flamed ;  many  are  running  the  race  for  office  ;  rivals  are  envied  ; 
characters  are  aspersed  ;  animosities  are  enkindled  ;  and  the 
whole  community  are  disturbed  by  the  electioneering  contest. 

No  meanness  is  foregone,  no  calumny  is  too  glaring,  no 
venality  is  too  base,  when  the  mind  is  inflamed  with  strong 
desire  and  elated  with  the  hope  of  success  in  the  pursuit  of  some 
favorite  object ;  and  when  the  doubtful  question  is  decided,  it 
avails  nothing.  Disappointment  sours  the  mind,  and  often  pro- 
duces the  most  bitter  enmity  and  the  most  settled  and  systematic 
opposition  in  the  unsuccessful  party ;  while  success  but  imper- 
fectly satisfies  the  mind  of  the  more  fortunate.  And  if  no  other 
influence  come  in  to  curb  the  turbulent  spirits  of  men  besides 
that  which  is  found  in  our  general  intelligence  and  constitutional 
checks,  probably,  at  no  great  distance  of  time,  such  convulsions 
may  be  witnessed  in  our  now  happy  country  as  shall  make  the 
ears  of  him  that  heareth  it  tingle,  and  the  eyes  of  him  that  seeth 
it  weep  blood.  State  may  be  arrayed  againsi  state,  section 
against  section,  and  party  against  party,  till  all  the  horrors  of 
civil  war  may  desolate  our  land.  Are  there  no  grounds  for 
such  fears. 


The  Destiny  of  America.  —  Stoht. 

We  stand  the  latest,  and,  if  we  fail,  probably  the  last  experi- 
ment of  self-government  by  the  people.  We  have  begun  it 
under  circumstances  of  the  most  auspicious  nature.  We  are  in 
the  vigor  of  youth.  Our  growth  has  never  been  checked  by  the 
oppressions  of  tyranny.  Our  constitutions  have  never  been  en- 
feebled by  the  vices  or  luxuries  of  the  old  world.  Such  as  we 
are,  we  have  been  from  the  beginning  —  simple,  hardy,  intel- 
ligent, accustomed  to  self-government  and  self-respect.  The 
Atlantic  rolls  between  us  and  any  formidable  foe. 

Within  our  own  territory,  stretching  through  many  degrees  of 
latitude  and  longitude,  we  have  the  choice  of  many  products  and 
many  means  of  independence.     The  government  is  mild.     Thy 


404  ROSS'S    SPEAKER. 

press  is  free.  Religion  is  free.  Knowledge  reaches,  or  may 
reach,  every  home.  What  fairer  prospects  of  success  could  be 
presented  ?  What  means  more  adequate  to  accomplish  the  sub- 
lime end  ?  What  more  is  necessary  than  for  the  people  to  pre- 
serve what  they  themselves  have  created  ? 

Already  has  the  age  caught  the  spirit  of  our  institutions.  I 
has  already  ascended  the  Andes,  and  snuffed  the  breezes  of  both 
oceans.  It  has  infused  itself  into  the  life  blood  of  Europe,  and 
warmed  the  sunny  plains  of  France  and  the  lowlands  of  Ho'Jand. 
It  has  touched  the  philosophy  of  Germany  and  the  north,  and, 
moving  onward  to  the  south,  has  opened  to  Greece  the  lessons 
of  her  better  days. 

Can  it  be  that  America,  under  such  circumstances,  can  betray 
herself?  that  she  is  to  be  added  to  the  catalogue  of  republics, 
the  inscription  upon  whose  ruins  is,  "  They  were,  but  they  are 
not  ?  "     Forbid  it,  my  countrymen  ;  forbid  it,  Heaven. 


The  Responsibilities  of  America.  —  Stoht. 

The  old  world  has  already  revealed  to  us,  in  its  unsealed 
books,  the  beginning  and  end  of  all  its  own  marvelous  struggles 
in  the  cause  of  liberty.  Greece,  lovely  Greece,  "  the  land  of 
scholars  and  the  nurse  of  arms,"  where  sister  republics  in  fair 
procession  chanted  the  praises  of  liberty  and  the  gods,  —  where 
and  what  is  she  ?  For  two  thousand  years  the  oppressor  has 
bound  her  to  the  earth.  Her  arts  are  no  more.  The  last  sad 
relics  of  her  temples  are  but  the  barracks  of  a  ruthless  soldiery  ; 
the  fragments  of  her  columns  and  her  palaces  are  in  the  dust, 
yet  beautiful  in  ruin.  She  fell  not  when  the  mighty  were  upon 
her.  Her  sons  were  united  at  Thermopylae  and  Marathon  ;  and 
the  tide  of  her  triumph  rolled  back  upon  the  Hellespont.  She 
was  conquered  by  her  own  factions.  She  fell  by  the  hands  of 
her  own  people.  The  man  of  Macedonia  did  not  the  work  of 
destruction.  It  was  already  done  by  her  own  corruptions, 
banishments,  and  dissensions. 

Rome,  republican  Rome,  whose  eagles  glanced  in  the  rising 
and  setting  sun,  —  where  and  what  is  she?  The  Eternal  City 
yet  remains,  proud  even  in  her  desolation,  noble  in  her  decline, 
venerable  in  the  majesty  of  religion,  and  calm  as  in  the  com- 
posure of  death.  The  malaria  has  but  traveled  in  the  paths 
worn  by  her  destroyers.  More  than  eighteen  centuries  have 
mourned  over  the  loss  of  her  empire.     A  mortal  disease  was 


ADAMS  AND  JEFFERSON.  405 

upon  her  vitals  before  Caesar  had  crossed  the  Rubicon.  The 
Goths,  and  Vandals,  and  Huns,  the  swarms  of  the  north,  com- 
pleted only  what  was  already  begun  at  home.  Romans  betrayed 
Rome.  The  legions  were  bought  and  sold,  but  the  people 
offered  the  tribute  money. 

When  we  reflect  on  what  has  been  and  is,  how  is  it  possible 
not  to  feel  a  profound  sense  of  the  responsibleness  of  this 
republic  to  all  future  ages !  What  vast  motives  press  upon  us 
for  lofty  efforts  !  What  brilliant  prospects  invite  our  enthusiasm  ! 
What  solemn  warnings  at  once  demand  our  vigilance,  and  mod- 
erate our  confidence  ! 


Adams  and  Jefferson.  —  Evbbbtt. 

No,  fellow-citizens,  we  dismiss  not  Adams  and  Jefferson  to 
the  chambers  of  forgetfulness  and  death.  What  we  admired, 
and  prized,  and  venerated  in  them  can  never  die,  nor,  dying,  be 
forgotten.  I  had  almost  said  that  they  are  now  beginning  to  live  — 
to  live  that  life  of  unimpaired  influence,  of  unclouded  fame,  of 
unmingled  happiness,  for  which  their  talents  and  services  were 
destined.  They  were  of  the  select  few,  the  least  portion  of 
whose  life  dwells  in  their  physical  existence  ;  whose  hearts  have 
watched  while  their  senses  slept ;  whose  souls  have  grown  up  into 
a  higher  being ;  whose  pleasure  is  to  be  useful  ;  whose  wealth  is 
an  unblemished  reputation ;  who  respire  the  breath  of  honorable 
fame  ;  who  have  deliberately  and  consciously  put  what  is  called 
life  to  hazard,  that  they  may  live  in  the  hearts  of  those  who 
come  after.     Such  men  do  not,  can  not  die. 

To  be  cold,  and  motionless,  and  breathless ;  to  feel  not  and  speak 
not :  this  is  not  the  end  of  existence  to  the  men  who  have  breathed 
their  spirits  into  the  institutions  of  their  country,  who  have 
stamped  their  characters  on  the  pillars  of  the  age,  who  have 
poured  their  hearts1  blood  into  the  channels  of  the  public  pros- 
perity. Tell  me,  ye  who  tread  the  sods  of  yon  sacred  hight, 
is  Warren  dead?  Can  you  not  still  see  him,  not  pale  and 
prostrate,  the  blood  of  his  gallant  heart  pouring  out  jf  his 
ghastly  wound,  but  moving  resplendent  over  the  field  of  honor 
with  the  rose  of  heaven  upon  his  cheek,  and  the  fire  of  liberty  in 
his  eye  ?  Tell  me,  ye  who  make  your  pious  pilgrimage  to  the 
shades  of  Vernon,  is  Washington  indeed  shut  up  in  that  cold 
and  narrow  house  ?  That  which  made  these  men,  and  men 
'ike  these,  can  not  die.     The    hand  that   traced  the  charter  of 


406  ROSS'S    SPEAKER. 

independence  is  indeed  motionless,  the  eloquent  lips  that  sustained 
it  are  hushed ;  but  the  lofty  spirits  that  conceived,  resolved, 
matured,  maintained  it,  and  which  alone,  to  such  men,  "  make  it 
life  to  live,"  these  can  not  expire. 

"  These  shall  resist  the  empire  of  decay, 
When  time  is  o'er,  and  worlds  have  passed  away : 
Cold  in  the  dust  the  perished  heart  may  lie, 
But  that  which  warmed  it  once  can  never  die." 


The  Same,  concluded. 

They  have  gone  to  the  companions  of  their  cares,  of  tieir 
toils.  It  is  well  with  them.  The  treasures  of  America  are  now 
in  heaven.  How  long  the  list  of  our  good,  and  wise,  and  brave, 
assembled  there !  How  few  remain  with  us !  There  is  our 
Washington ;  and  those  who  followed  him  in  their  country's  con- 
fidence are  now  met  together  with  him  and  all  that  illustrious 
company. 

The  faithful  marble  may  preserve  their  image  ;  the  engraven 
brass  may  proclaim  their  worth ;  but  the  humblest  sod  of  inde- 
pendent America,  with  nothing  but  the  dew-drops  of  the  morning 
to  gild  it,  is  a  prouder  mausoleum  than  kings  or  conquerors  can 
boast.  The  country  is  their  monument.  Its  independence  is 
their  epitaph. 

But  not  to  their  country  is  their  praise  limited.  The  whole 
earth  is  the  monument  of  illustrious  men.  Wherever  an  agonizing 
people  shall  perish,  in  a  generous  convulsion,  for  want  of  a  valiant 
arm  and  a  fearless  heart,  they  will  cry,  in  the  last  accents  of 
despair,  "  O  for  a  Washington,  an  Adams,  a  Jefferson  !  "  Wher- 
ever a  regenerated  nation,  starting  up  in  its  might,  shall  burst  the 
links  of  steel  that  enchain  it,  the  praise  of  our  fathers  shall  oe 
the  prelude  of  their  triumphal  song. 

The  contemporary  and  successive  generations  of  men  will  dis- 
appear. In  the  long  lapse  of  ages,  the  tribes  of  America,  like 
ihose  of  Greece  and  Rome,  may  pass  away.  The  fabric  of 
American  freedom,  like  all  things  human,  however  firm  and  fair, 
may  crumble  into  dust.  But  the  cause  in  which  these  our  fathers 
shone  is  immortal.  They  did  that  to  which  no  age,  no  people 
of  reasoning  men,  can  be  indifferent. 

Their  eulogy  will  be  uttered  in  other  languages,  when  those 
we  speak,  like  us  who  speak  them,  shall  all  be  forgotten.     And 


A  MOTHER'S   GIFT— THE   BIBLE.  401 

when  the  great  account  of  humanity  shall  be  closed  at  the  throne 
of  God,  in  the  bright  list  of  hi 3  children,  who  best  adorned  and 
served  it,  shall  be  found  the  names  of  our  Adams  and  oui 
Jefferson. 


A  Mother's  Gift  — the  Bible.  -vv.Fmqpmw. 

ReiMEMBeq,  love,  who  gave  thee  this, 

When  other  days  shall  come, 
When  she,  who  had  thine  earliest  kias 

Sleeps  in  her  narrow  home  ; 
Remember,  'twas  a  mother  gave 
The  gift  to  one  she'd  die  to  save. 

That  mother  sought  a  pledge  of  love, 

The  holiest,  for  her  son ; 
And  from  the  gifts  of  God  above 

She  chose  a  goodly  one. 
She  chose  for  her  beloved  boy 

The  source  of  light,  and  life,  and  joy  ;  — 

And  bade  him  keep  the  gift,  that,  when 

The  parting  hour  should  come, 
They  might  have  hope  to  meet  again, 

In  an  eternal  home. 
She  said  his  faith  in  this  would  be 
Sweet  incense  to  her  memory. 

And  should  the  scoffer,  in  his  pride, 

Laugh  that  fond  faith  to  scorn, 
And  bid  him  cast  the  pledge  aside, 

That  he  from  youth  had  borne, 
She  bade  him  pause,  and  ask  his  breast 
If  she  or  he  had  loved  him  best. 

A  parent's  blessing  on  her  son 

Goes  with  this  holy  thing  ; 
The  love  that  would  retain  the  one 

Must  to  the  other  cling. 
Remember,  'tis  no  idle  toy  : 
A  mother's  gift,  remember,  boy. 


408  ROSS'S   SPEAKER. 


The  Destiny  of  America.  —  G.  s.  Hillard. 

We  may  betray  the  trust  reposed  in  us  —  we  may  most  miser- 
ably defeat  the  fond  hopes  entertained  of  us.  We  may  become 
the  scorn  of  tyrants  and  the  jest  of  slaves.  From  our  fate 
oppression  may  assume  a  bolder  front  of  insolence,  and  its  vic- 
tims sink  into  a  darker  despair. 

In  that  event,  how  unspeakable  will  be  our  disgrace  !  With 
what  weigh'  of  mountains  will  the  infamy  lie  upon  our  souls  ! 
The  gulf  of  our  ruin  will  be  as  deep  as  the  elevation  we  might 
have  attained  is  high.  How  wilt  thou  fall  from  heaven,  O  Luci- 
fer, son  of  the  morning !  Our  beloved  country  with  ashes  for 
beaity  ;  the  golden  cord  of  our  union  broken  ;  its  scattered  frag- 
ments presenting  every  form  of  misrule,  from  the  wildest  anarchy 
to  the  most  ruthless  despotism  ;  our  "  soil  drenched  with  fraternal 
blood ; "  the  life  of  man  stripped  of  its  grace  and  dignity ;  the 
prizes  of  honor  gone,  and  virtue  divorced  from  half  its  encourage- 
ments and  supports  ;  — these  are  gloomy  pictures,  which  I  would 
not  invite  your  imaginations  to  dwell  upon,  but  only  to  glance 
at,  for  the  sake  of  the  warning  lessons  we  may  draw  from  them. 

Remember  that  we  can  have  none  of  those  consolations  which 
sustain  the  patriot  who  mourns  over  the  undeserved  misfortunes 
of  his  country.  Our  Rome  can  not  fall  and  we  be  innocent. 
No  conqueror  will  chain  us  to  the  car  of  his  triumph  ;  no  count- 
less swarm  of  Huns  and  Goths  will  bury  the  memorials  and 
trophies  of  civilized  life  beneath  a  living  tide  of  barbarism. 
Our  own  selfishness,  our  own  neglect,  our  own  passions,  and  our 
own  vices  will  furnish  the  elements  of  our  destruction.  With  our 
own  hands  we  shall  tear  down  the  stately  edifice  of  our  glory. 
We  shall  die  by  self-inflicted  wounds. 

But  we  will  not  talk  of  themes  like  these.  We  will  not  think 
of  failure,  dishonor,  and  despair.  We  will  elevate  our  minds  to 
the  contemplation  of  our  high  duties,  and  the  great  trust  com- 
mitted to  us.  We  will  resolve  to  lay  the  foundations  of  our 
prosperity  on  that  rock  of  private  virtue  which  can  not  be  shaken 
until  the  laws  of  the  moral  world  are  reversed.  From  our  own 
breasts  shall  flow  the  salient  springs  of  national  increase.  Then 
our  success,  our  happiness,  our  glory  is  inevitable.  We  may 
calmly  smile  at  all  the  croakings  of  all  the  ravens,  whether  of 
native  or  foreign  breed. 

The  whole  will  not  grow  weak  by  the  increase  of  its  parts. 
Our  growth  will  be  like  that  of  the  mountain  oak,  which  strikes 
its  roots  more  deeply  into  the  soil,  and  clings  to  it  with  a  closer 


THE  DEVELOPMENT   OF   OUR   COUNTRY.  40J) 

grasp  as  its  lofty  head  is  exalted  and  its  broad  arms  stretched 
out.  The  loud  burst  of  joy  and  gratitude  which  this,  the  anni 
versary  of  our  independence,  is  breaking  from  the  full  hearts  ot 
a  mighty  people,  will  never  cease  to  be  heard.  No  chasms  of 
sullen  silence  will  interrupt  its  course,  no  discordant  notes  of 
sectional  madness  mar  the  general  harmony.  Year  after  year 
will  increase  it,  by  tributes  from  now  unpeopled  solitudes.  The 
farthest  west  shall  hear  it  and  rejoice  ;  the  Oregon  shall  swell  it 
with  the  voice  of  its  waters ;  the  Rocky  Mountains  shad  fling 
back  the  glad  sound  from  their  snowy  crests. 


The  Development  of  our  Country.  —  Dr.  Henry. 

It  is  but  a  few  years  since  we  entered  upon  the  conquest  of  a 
country  wilder  than  Germany  in  the  days  of  Caesar,  and  ton 
times  more  extensive  ;  and  yet  in  that  short  space  we  have 
reached  a  point  of  physical  development  which  twenty  centuries 
have  not  accomplished  there.  The  forests  have  fallen  down,  the 
earth  has  been  quarried,  cities  and  towns  have  sprung  up  all  over 
the  immense  extent  of  our  land,  thronged  with  life,  and  resound- 
ing with  the  multitudinous  hum  of  traffic  :  and  from  hundreds 
of  ports  the  canvas  of  ten  thousand  sails  whitens  all  the  ocean 
and  every  sea,  bearing  the  products  of  our  soil  and  manufactures, 
and  bringing  back  the  wealth  and  luxuries  of  every  quarter  of 
the  globe.  Then,  too,  the  tremendous  agencies  of  nature  —  the 
nwful  forces  evolved  by  chemical  and  dynamic  science — have 
been  subdued  to  man's  dominion,  and  have  become  submissive 
mil)  sters  to  his  will,  more  prompt  and  more  powerful  than  the  old 
f;i! '.  d  genii  of  the  Arabian  tales.  Little  did  our  fathers,  little  did 
w  e  nirsclves,  even  the  youngest  of  us,  dream,  in  the  days  of  our 
childhood,  when  we  fed  our  wondering  imaginations  with  the  prod- 
igies wrought  by  those  elemental  spirits  evoked  by  the  talismanic 
seal  of  Solomon,  that  these  were  but  faint  foreshadowings  of 
what  our  eyes  should  see  in  the  familiar  goings  on  of  the  every - 
day  life  around  us.     Yet  so  it  truly  is. 

Ha  !  gentlemen,  the  steam  engine  is  your  true  elemental  spirit , 
it  more  than  realizes  the  gorgeous  ideas  of  the  old  Oriental 
imagination.  That  had  its  different  orders  of  elemental  spirits  — 
genii  of  fire,  of  water,  of  earth,  and  of  air,  whose  everlasting 
hostility  could  never  be  subdued  to  unity  of  purpose  ;  this  com- 
bines the  powers  of  all  in  one,  and  a  child  may  control  them. 
Across  the  ocean,  along  our  coast,  through  the  length  of  a  hun- 


410  ROSS'S   SPEAKER. 

dred  rivers,  with  the  speed  of  wind,  we  plow  our  way  against 
currents,  wind,  and  tide  ;  while  on  iron  roads,  through  the  length 
and  breadth  of  the  land,  innumerable  trains,  thronged  with  human 
life,  and  freighted  with  the  wealth  of  the  nation,  are  urging  their 
way  in  every  direction  —  flying  through  the  valleys;  thundering 
across  the  rivers ;  panting  up  the  sides  or  piercing  through  the 
hearts  of  the  mountains,  with  the  resistless  force  of  lightning, 
and  scarcely  less  swift. 

All  this  is  wonderful.  The  old  limitations  to  human  endeavor 
seem  to  be  broken  through  —  the  everlasting  conditions  of  time 
and  space  seem  to  be  annulled.  Meanwhile  the  magnificent 
achievements  of  to-day  lead  but  to  grander  projects  for  to-m  Drrow. 
Success  in  the  past  serves  but  to  enlarge  the  purposes  of  the 
future ;  and  the  people  are  rushing  onward  in  a  career  of  physi- 
cal development  to  which  no  bounds  can  be  assigned 


The  Poet  in  the  Clouds.— Coleridgb, 

O,  it  is  pleasant,  with  a  heart  at  ease, 

Just  after  sunset,  or  by  moonlight  skies, 
To  make  the  shifting  clouds  be  what  you  please, 

Or  let  the  easily  persuaded  eyes 
Own  each  quaint  likeness  issuing  from  the  mold 

Of  a  friend's  fancy ;  or  with  head  bent  low 
And  cheek  aslant,  see  rivers  flow  of  gold, 

'Twixt  crimson  banks  ;  and  then,  a  traveler,  go 
From  mount  to  mount  through  Cloudland,  gorgeous  land ! 

Or,  listening  to  the  tide  with  closed  sight, 
Be  that  blind  bard,  who,  on  the  Chian  strand, 

By  those  deep  sounds  possessed,  with  inward  light 
Beheld  the  Iliad  and  the  Odyssey 
Rise  to  the  swelling  of  the  voiceful  sea. 


Washington  a  Man  of  Genius.  —  Whipple.     > 

How  many  times  have  we  been  told  that  Washington  was 
not  a  man  of  genius,  but  a  person  of  excellent  common  sense,  of 
admirable  judgment,  of  rare  virtues  !  He  had  no  genius,  it 
seems.  O,  no !  genius,  we  must  suppose,  is  the  peculiar  and 
shining  attribute  of  some  orator,  whose  tongue  can  spout  patri- 


THE  DEATH   OF  WASHINGTON.  411 

otic  opeeches,  or  some  versifier,  whose  muse  can  Hail  Columbia, 
but  not  of  the  man  who  supported  states  on  his  arm,  and  carried 
America  in  his  brain.  What  is  genius  ?  Is  it  worth  any  thing  ? 
Is  splendid  folly  the  measure  of  its  inspiration  ?  Is  wisdom  its 
base  and  summit  —  that  which  it  recedes  from,  or  tends  toward  ? 
And  by  what  definition  do  you  award  the  name  to  the  creator  of 
an  epic,  and  deny  it  to  the  creator  of  a  country?  On  what 
principle  is  it  to  be  lavished  on  him  who  sculptures  in  perishing 
marble  the  image  of  possible  excellence,  and  withheld  from  him 
who  built  up  in  himself  a  transcendent  character,  indestructible 
as  the  obligations  of  duty,  and  beautiful  as  her  rewards  ? 

Indeed,  if,  by  the  genius  of  action,  you  mean  will  enlightened 
by  intelligence,  and  intelligence  energized  by  will ;  if  force  and 
insight  be  its  characteristics,  and  influence  its  test ;  and  if  great 
effects  suppose  a  cause  proportionally  great,  a  vital,  causative 
mind,  —  then  was  Washington  most  assuredly  a  man  of  genius, 
and  one  whom  no  other  American  has  equaled  in  the  power  of 
working  morally  and  mentally  on  other  minds.  His  genius  was 
of  a  peculiar  kind,  the  genius  of  character,  of  thought,  and  the 
objects  of  thought  solidified  and  concentrated  into  active  faculty. 
He  belongs  to  that  rare  class  of  men  —  rare  as  Homers  and 
Miltons,  rare  as  Platos  and  Newtons  — who  have  impressed  their 
characters  upon  nations  without  pampering  national  vices.  Such 
men  have  natures  broad  enough  to  include  all  the  facts  of  a 
people's  practical  life,  and  deep  enough  to  discern  the  spiritual 
laws  which  underlie,  animate,  and  govern  those  facts. 


The  Death  of  Washington.  —  Robert  Thbat  Painb. 

Having  accomplished  the  embassy  of  a  benevolent  Providence, 
Washington,  the  founder  of  one  nation,  the  sublime  instructor 
of  all,  took  his  flight  to  heaven  ;  not  like  Mahomet,  for  Ilia 
memory  is  immortal  without  the  fiction  of  a  miracle ;  not  like 
Elijah,  for  recording  time  has  not  registered  the  man  on  whom 
his  mantle  should  descend ;  but  in  humble  imitation  of  that 
omnipotent  Architect,  who  returned  from  a  created  universe  to 
contemplate  from  his  throne  the  stupendous  fabric  he  had  erected. 

The  august  form  whose  undaunted  majesty  could  arrest  the 
lightning,  ere  it  fell  on  the  bosom  of  his  country,  now  sleeps  in 
silent  ruin,  untenanted  of  its  celestial  essence.  But  the  incor- 
ruptible example  of  his  virtues  shall  survive,  unimpaired  by  the 


412  ROSS'S   SPEAKER. 

corrosion  of  time,  and  acquire  new  vigor  und  influence  from  th« 
crimes  of  ambition  and  the  decay  of  empires.  The  invaluc.ble 
valediction  bequeathed  to  the  people  who  inherited  his  affections  is 
the  effort  of  a  mind  whose  powers,  like  those  of  prophecy,  could 
overleap  the  tardy  progress  of  human  reason,  and  unfold  truth 
without  the  labor  of  investigation.  Impressed  in  indelible  char- 
acters, this  legacy  of  his  intelligence  will  descend,  unsullied  as  its 
purity,  to  the  wonder  and  instruction  of  succeeding  generations  ; 
and  should  the  mild  philosophy  of  its  maxims  be  ingrafted  into  the 
policy  of  nations,  at  no  distant  period  will  the  departed  hero,  who 
now  lives  only  in  the  spotless  splendor  of  his  own  great  actions, 
exist  in  the  happiness  and  dignity  of  mankind. 

Tlv*  sighs  of  contemporary  gratitude  have  attended  the  sublime 
spirit  to  its  paternal  abode ;  and  the  prayers  of  meliorated  pos- 
terity will  ascend  in  glowing  remembrance  of  their  illustrious 
benefactor.  The  laurels  that  now  droop  as  they  shadow  his  tomb 
with  monumental  glory,  will  be  watered  by  the  tears  of  ages ; 
and,  embalmed  in  the  heart  of  an  admiring  world,  the  temple 
erected  to  his  memory  will  be  more  glorious  than  the  pyramids, 
and  as  eternal  as  his  own  imperishable  virtues. 


The  Light  of  Science.  -B.  D.  B*mxn. 

O,  let  the  light  spread  far  and  wide, 

Away  o'er  hill  and  vale  ; 
O,  let  it  be  our  nation's  pride ; 

The  star  of  science  hail ! 
No  longer  pent  in  lordly  hall, 

Among  the  favored  few  ; 
The  boon  of  God  —  'tis  free  to  all, 

As  drops  the  heavenly  dew. 

Ten  thousand,  thousand  lamps  of  mind, 

O'er  wide  creation  spread, 
Have  long  in  darkness  been  confined, 

Bedimmed  by  error  dread. 
Then  march  we  on  with  torch  in  hand 

And  light  them  in  a  glow, 
Till  science  beam  from  every  land. 

A  firmament  below. 


THE   GOOD   TIME   COMING.  413 

Then  radiant  with  eternal  truth, 

The  soul  on  earth  shall  shine, 
And  early  learn  in  infant  youth 

The  way  to  worlds  divine. 
Then,  teachers,  rouse  with  cheerful  zeal, 

And  mold  with  skillful  art; 
Take  Virtue's  signet,  —  God's  own  seal, — 

Impress  the  youthful  heart. 


The  Good  Time  coming.  —  i.  B.  Oouaii, 

Of  those  who  began  the  temperance  reform,  some  are  living 
:o-day ;  and  I  should  like  to  stand  now  and  see  the  mighty  en- 
terprise as  it  rises  before  them.  They  worked  hard  ;  they  lifted 
the  first  turf,  prepared  the  bed  in  which  to  lay  the  corner  stone  • 
they  laid  it  amid  persecution  and  storm ;  they  worked  under  the 
surface,  and  men  almost  forgot  that  there  were  busy  hands  lay- 
ing the  solid  foundation  far  down  beneath.  By  and  by  they  got 
the  foundation  above  the  surface,  and  then  commenced  another 
storm  or  persecution.  Now  we  see  the  superstructure,  pillar 
after  pillar,  tower  after  tower,  column  after  column,  with  the 
capitals  emblazoned  — "  Love,  truth,  sympathy,  and  good  will  to 
all  men."  Old  men  gaze  upon  it  as  it  grows  up  before  them. 
They  will  not  live  to  see  it  completed,  but  they  see  in  faith  the 
crowning  cope  stone  set  upon  it.  Meek-eyed  women  weep  as  it 
grows  in  beauty  ;  children  strew  the  pathway  of  the  workmen 
with  flowers. 

We  do  not  see  its  beauty  yet ;  we  do  not  see  the  magnificence 
of  t  lie  superstructure  yet,  because  it  is  in  course  of  erection.  Scaf- 
folding, ropes,  ladders,  workmen  ascending  and  descending,  mar 
the  beauty  of  the  building;  but,  by  and  by,  when  the  hosts  who 
have  labored  shall  come  up  over  a  thousand  battle  fields,  waving 
with  bright  grain,  never  again  to  be  crushed  in  the  distillery; 
through  vineyards,  under  trellised  vines  with  grapes  hanging  in 
all  their  purple  glory,  never  again  to  be  pressed  into  that  which 
can  debase  and  degrade  mankind  ;  when  they  shall  come  through 
orchards,  under  trees  hanging  thick  with  golden,  pulpy  fruit, 
never  to  Ik;  turned  into  that  which  can  injure  and  debase;  when 
they  shall  come  up  to  the  last  distillery,  and  destroy  it,  to  the  last 
steam  of  liquid  death,  and  dry  it  up  ;  to  the  last  weeping  wife,  and 
wipe  her  tears  gently  away  ;  to  the  last  little  child,  and  lift  him 
up  to  stand  where  God  meant  that  mankind  should  stand  ;  to  the 


414  ROSS'S   SPEAKER. 

last  drunkard  and  nerve  him  to  burst  the  burning  fetters,  and 
make  a  glorious  accompaniment  to  the  song  of  freedom  by  the 
clanking  of  his  broken  chains,  —  then,  ah !  then  will  the  cope 
stone  be  set  upon  it,  the  scaffolding  will  fall  with  a  crash,  and  the 
building  will  stand  in  its  wondrous  beauty  before  an  astonished 
world. 


The  Warfare  of  Truth.  —  C.  w.  Upham. 

The  awful  and  murderous  operations  of  military  power  can 
only  be  justified  when  directed  against  a  foreign  invader,  or 
domestic  conspirators  attempting  to  obtain  possession  of  the  gov- 
ernment by  force  of  arms.  Even  in  such  cases  they  must  be 
allowed  to  be  in  themselves  great  evils,  and  are  only  tolerated 
because  necessary  to  put  down  still  greater  evils.  They  can  not 
be  rightfully  employed  as  the  means  of  enlarging  the  liberties,  or 
reforming  the  abuses,  of  any  nation  or  community. 

The  horrors  and  cruelties  of  civil  and  intestine  war,  the  blood- 
shed and  the  barbarism  of  the  battle  field,  the  furies  and  the 
crimes  attendant  upon  massacre,  conflagration,  and  pillage,  can 
never  be  made  to  prepare  the  way  for  the  blessings  of  liberty , 
peace,  and  equal  rights,  to  enter  and  take  up  their  abode  in  any 
land.  They  serve  only  to  bind  upon  it  still  more  firmly  the  bur- 
den and  the  woes  of  slavery  and  sin.  "  All  they  that  take  the 
sword,"  that  is,  select  and  adopt  it  as  the  means  of  improving 
their  social  or  political  condition,  "shall  perish  with  the  sword.1" 
But  truth  is  mighty,  reason  is  mighty,  conscience  is  mighty  ;  the 
spirit  of  human  and  of  Christian  benevolence  is  mightier  than 
them  all,  and  the  most  despised  minority,  the  most  trampled 
victims  of  oppression  and  slavery,  if  they  make  these  the  weapons 
?f  their  warfare,  and  wield  them  in  faith,  patience,  and  persever- 
ance, will  be  sure  to  conquer,  for  God  will  be  their  ally.  And 
the  strongest  and  fiercest  giant,  who  comes  to  the  field  with  a 
spear,  and  with  a  sword,  and  with  a  shield,  will  be  sure  to  fad  be- 
fore the  merest  stripling  who  meets  him  in  the  name  of  the  Lord. 


The  Party  Maw. —anon. 

The  party  man  has  associated  his  ambition,  his  interests,  and 
his  affections  with  a  party.  He  prefers,  doubtless,  that  his  s:de 
should  be  victorious  by  the  best  means  and  under  the  champion 


THE   PHILOSOPHER'S   SCALES.  415 

ship  of  good  men  ;  but  rather  than  lose  the  victory,  tu>  will  con- 
sent to  any  means,  and  follow  any  man.  Thus,  with  a  general 
desire  to  be  upright,  the  exigency  of  his  party  pushes  constantly 
to  dishonorable  deeds.  He  gradually  adopts  two  characters,  a 
personal  and  a  political  character.  All  the  requisitions  of  his 
conscience  he  obeys  in  his  private  character ;  all  the  requisitions 
of  his  party  he  obeys  in  his  political  conduct.  In  one  character 
he  is  a  man  of  principle,  in  the  other  a  man  of  mere  expedients. 

As  a  man  he  means  to  be  veracious,  honest,  moral ;  as  a  poli- 
tician he  is  deceitful,  cunning,  unscrupulous,  any  thing  for  a 
party  •,  as  a  man  he  abhors  the  slimy  demagogue  ;  as  a  politician 
he  employs  him  as  a  scavenger ;  as  a  man  he  shrinks  from  the 
flagiuousness  of  slander ;  as  a  politician  he  permits  it,  smiles 
upon  it  in  others,  rejoices  in  the  success  gained  by  it ;  as  a  man 
he  respects  no  one  who  is  rotten  in  heart ;  as  a  politician  no  man 
through  whom  victory  may  be  gained  can  be  too  bad  ;  as  a  citi- 
zen he  is  an  apostle  of  temperance  ;  as  a  politician  he  puts  his 
shoulder  under  the  men  who  deluge  their  track  with  whiskey, 
marching  a  crew  of  brawling  patriots  too  pugnaciously  drunk  to 
exercise  the  freeman's  noblest  franchise  —  the  vote. 

As  a  citizen  he  is  considerate  of  the  young,  and  counsels  them 
with  admirable  wisdom  ;  then,  as  a  politician,  he  votes  for  tools, 
supporting  for  uV  magistracy  worshipful  aspirants,  scraped  from 
the  ditch,  the  grog  shop,  and  the  brothel.  Thus  saying  by  deeds 
which  the  young  are  quick  to  understand,  "  I  jested  when  1  warned 
you  of  bad  company,  for  you  perceive  none  worse  than  those 
whom  I  delight  to  honor."  For  his  religion  he  will  give  up  all 
his  secular  interest,  but  for  his  politics  he  gives  up  even  his  re- 
ligion. He  adores  virtue  and  rewards  vice.  Whilst  bolstering 
up  unrighteous  measures  and  more  unrighteous  men,  he  prays  for 
the  advancement  of  religion,  and  justice,  and  honor.  I  would  to 
God  that  his  prayers  might  be  answered  upon  his  own  political 
head,  for  never  was  there  a  place  where  such  blessings  were 
more  needed.  I  am  puzzled  to  know  what  will  happen  at  death 
tc  this  public  Christian,  but  most  unchristian  politician. 


The  Philosopher'' s  Scales.  —  JaneTatlou 

A  monk,  when  his  rites  sacerdotal  were  o'er, 

In  the  depth  of  his  cell  with  his  stone-covered  floor, 

Resigning  to  thought  his  chimerical  brain. 

Once  formed  the  contrivance  we  now  shall  explain; 


416  ROSS'S   SPEAKER. 

But  whether  hy  magic's  or  alchemy's  powers, 
We  know  not ;  indeed,  'tis  no  business  of  ours. 

Perhaps  it  was  only  by  patience  and  care, 

At  last,  that  he  brought  his  invention  to  bear ; 

In  youth  'twas  projected,  but  years  stole  away, 

And  ere  'twas  complete,  he  was  wrinkled  and  gray  ; 

But  success  is  secure,  unless  energy  fails ; 

And,  at  length,  he  produced  the  philosopher's  scales. 

"  What  were  they  ?"  you  ask ,  you  shall  presently  see 
These  scales  were  not  made  to  weigh  sugar  and  tea ; 
O,  no ;  for  such  properties  wondrous  had  they, 
That  qualities,  feelings,  and  thoughts  they  could  weigh 
Together  with  articles  small  or  immense, 
From  mountains  or  planets  to  atoms  of  sense. 

Nought  was  there  so  bulky  but  there  it  would  lay, 
And  nought  so  ethereal  but  there  it  would  stay, 
And  nought  so  reluctant  but  in  it  must  go ; 
And  which  some  examples  more  clearly  will  show. 

The  first  thing  he  weighed  was  the  head  of  Voltaire, 
Which  retained  all  the  wit  that  had  ever  been  there ; 
As  a  weight,  he  threw  in  a  torn  scrap  of  a  leaf 
Containing  the  prayer  of  the  penitent  thief; 
When  the  skull  rose  aloft  with  so  sudden  a  spell, 
That  it  bounced  like  a  ball  on  the  roof  of  the  cell. 

One  time  he  put  in  Alexander  the  Great, 
With  a  garment  that  Dorcas  had  made,  for  a  weight , 
And,  though  clad  in  armor  from  sandals  to  crown, 
The  hero  rose  up,  and  the  garment  went  down. 

A  long  row  of  almshouses,  amply  endowed 

By  a  well-esteemed  Pharisee,  busy  and  proud, 

Next  loaded  one  scale ;  while  the  other  was  prest 

By  those  mites  the  poor  widow  dropped  into  the  chest; 

Up  flew  the  endowment,  not  weighing  an  ounce, 

And  down,  down  the  farthing-worth  came  with  a  bounce 

By  further  experiments,  (no  matter  how,) 

He  found  that  ten  chariots  weighed  less  than  one  plow  ; 


OBSERVANCE  OF  THE  SABBATH.        41' 

A  sword  with  gilt  trapping  rose  up  in  the  scale, 
Though  balanced  by  only  a  ten-penny  nail ; 
A  shield  and  a  helmet,  a  buckler  and  spear, 
Weighed  less  than  a  widow's  uncrystallized  tear. 

A  lord  and  a  lady  went  up  at  full  sail, 

When  a  bee  chanced  to  light  on  the  opposite  scale ; 

Ten  doctors,  ten  lawyers,  two  courtiers,  one  earl, 

Ten  counselors'  wigs,  full  of  powder  and  curl, 

All  heaped  in  one  balance  and  swinging  from  thence, 

Weighed  less  than  a  few  grains  of  candor  and  sense;  — 

A  first  water  diamond,  with  brilliants  begirt, 
Than  one  good  potato,  just  washed  from  the  dirt : 
Yet  not  mountains  of  silver  and  gold  could  suffice 
One  pearl  to  outweigh  —  'twas  the  pearl  of  great  price. 

Last  of  all,  the  whole  world  was  bowled  in  at  the  grate 
With  the  soul  of  a  beggar  to  serve  for  a  weight, 
When  the  former  sprang  up  with  so  strong  a  rebuff", 
That  it  made  a  vast  rent  and  escaped  at  the  roof; 
When,  balanced  in  air,  it  ascended  on  high, 
And  sailed  up  aloft,  a  balloon  in  the  sky  ; 
While  the  scale  with  the  soul  in't  so  mightily  fell, 
That  it  jerked  the  philosopher  out  of  his  cell. 


Observance  of  the  Sabbath.  —  Db.  spring 

The  Sabbath  lies  at  the  foundation  of  all  true  morality.  Mo- 
rality flows  from  principle.  Let  the  principles  of  moral  obliga- 
tion become  relaxed,  and  the  practice  of  morality  will  not  long 
survive  the  overthrow.  No  man  can  preserve  his  own  morals, 
no  parent  can  preserve  the  morals  of  his  children,  without  the 
impressions  of  religious  obligation. 

If  you  can  induce  a  community  to  doubt  the  genuineness  and 
authenticity  of  the  Scriptures ;  to  question  the  reality  and  obliga- 
tions of  religion  ;  to  hesitate,  undeciding,  whether  there  be  any 
such  thing  us  virtue  or  vice  ;  whether  there  be  an  eternal  state 
of  retribution  beyond  the  grave  ;  or  whether  there  exists  any 
such  being  as  God,  —  you  have  broken  down  the  barriers  of  moral 
virtue,  and  hoisted  the  flood  gates  of  immorality  and  crime.  1 
need  not  say  that,  when  a  people  have  once  done  this,  they  can 

27 


418  ROSS'S   SPEAKER. 

no  longer  exist  as  a  tranquil  and  happy  people.  Every  bond 
that  holds  society  together  would  be  ruptured  ;  fraud  and  treach- 
ery would  take  the  place  of  confidence  between  man  and  man ; 
the  tribunals  of  justice  would  be  scenes  of  bribery  and  injustice ; 
avarice,  perjury,  ambition,  and  revenge  would  walk  through  the 
land,  and  render  it  more  like  the  dwelling  of  savage  beasts  than 
the  tranquil  abode  of  civilized  and  Christianized  men. 

If  there  is  an  institution  which  opposes  itself  to  this  progress 
of  human  degeneracy,  and  throws  a  shield  before  the  interests 
of  moral  virtue,  in  our  thoughtless  and  wayward  world,  it  is  the 
Sabbath.  In  the  fearful  struggle  between  virtue  and  vice,  not- 
withstanding the  powerful  auxiliaries  which  wickedness  finds  in 
the  bosoms  of  men,  and  in  the  seductions  and  influence  of  popular 
example,  wherever  the  Sabbath  has  been  suffered  to  live,  the 
trembling  interests  of  moral  virtue  have  always  been  revered  and 
sustained.  One  of  the  principal  occupations  of  this  day  is  to 
Hlustrate  and  enforce  the  great  principles  of  sound  morality. 
Where  this  sacred  trust  is  preserved  inviolate,  you  behold  a  na- 
tion convened  one  day  in  seven,  for  the  purpose  of  acquainting 
themselves  with  the  best  moral  principles  and  precepts.  And  it 
can  not  be  otherwise  than  that  the  authority  of  moral  virtue, 
under  such  auspices,  should  be  acknowledged  and  felt. 

We  may  not,  at  once,  perceive  the  effects  which  this  weekly 
observance  produces.  Like  most  moral  causes,  it  operates  slow- 
ly ;  but  it  operates  surely,  and  gradually  weakens  the  power, 
and  breaks  the  yoke  of  profligacy  and  sin.  No  villain  regards 
the  Sabbath.  No  vicious  family  regards  the  Sabbath.  No  im- 
moral community  regard  the  Sabbath.  The  holy  rest  of  this 
ever-memorable  day  is  a  barrier  which  is  always  broken  down 
before  men  become  giants  in  sin.  Blackstone,  in  his  Commen- 
taries on  the  Laws  of  England,  remarks,  that  "  a  corruption  of 
morals  usually  follows  a  profanation  of  the  Sabbath."  It  is  an 
observation  of  Lord  Chief  Justice  Hale,  that  "  of  all  the  persons 
who  were  convicted  of  capital  crimes  while  he  was  upon  the 
bench,  he  found  a  few  only  who  would  not  confess  that  they  be- 
gan their  career  of  wickedness  by  a  neglect  of  the  duties  of  the 
Sabbath,  and  vicious  conduct  on  that  day." 

The  prisons  in  our  own  land  could  probably  tell  us,  that  they 
have  scarcely  a  solitary  tenant  who  had  not  broken  over  the 
restraints  of  the  Sabbath  before  he  was  abandoned  to  crime. 
You  may  enact  laws  for  the  suppression  of  immorality ;  but  the 
secret  and  silent  power  of  the  Sabbath  constitutes  a  stronger 
shield  to  the  vital  interests  of  the  community,  than  any  code  of 
penal  statutes  that  ever  was  enacted.     The  Sabbath  is  the  key- 


WOLSEY'S   ADDRESS  TO    CROMWELL.  419 

■tone  of  the  arch  which  sustains  the  temple  of  virtue,  which, 
however  defaced,  will  survive  many  a  rude  shock,  so  long  a* 
the  foundation  remains  firm. 


Cardinal  Wolsetfs  Address  to   Cromwell 

Shakbtbarb. 

Cbomwell,  I  did  not  think  to  shed  a  tear 

In  all  my  miseries ;  but  thou  hast  forced  mo, 

Out  of  thy  honest  truth,  to  play  the  woman. 

Let's  dry  our  eyes,  and  thus  far  hear  me,  Cromwell ; 

And  when  I  am  forgotten,  as  I  shall  be, 

And  sleep  in  dull,  cold  marble,  where  no  mention 

Of  me  more  must  be  heard  of,  say  I  taught  thee  — 

Say,  Wolsey,  that  once  trod  the  ways  of  glory, 

And  sounded  all  the  depths  and  shoals  of  honor, 

Found  thee  a  way,  out  of  his  wreck,  to  rise  in  ; 

A  sure  and  safe  one  —  though  thy  master  missed  it 

Mark  but  my  fall,  and  that  that  ruined  me. 

Cromwell,  I  charge  thee,  fling  away  ambition : 

By  that  sin  fell  the  angels  ;  how  can  man,  then, 

The  image  of  his  Maker,  hope  to  win  by't  ? 

Love  thyself  last ;  cherish  those  hearts  that  hate  thee  : 

Corruption  wins  not  more  than  honesty. 

Still  in  thy  right  hand  carry  gentle  peace, 

To  silence  envious  tongues.     Be  just,  and  fear  not. 

Let  all  the  ends  thou  aim'st  at  be  thy  country's, 

Thy  God's,  and  truth's  :  then,  if  thou  fall'st,  O  CromweU 

Thou  fall'st  a  blessed  martyr.     Serve  the  king; 

And  —     Pr'ythee,  lead  me  in  : 

There  take  an  inventory  of  all  I  have, 

To  the  last  penny  —  'tis  the  king's.     My  robe, 

And  my  integrity  to  Heaven,  is  all 

I  dure  now  call  my  own.     O  Cromwell,  Cromwell, 

Had  I  but  served  my  God  with  half  the  zeal 

I  served  my  king,  he  would  not,  in  mine  age, 

Have  left  me  naked  to  mine  enemies. 


420  ROSS'S   SPEAKER 


Soliloquy  of  Henry  IV.— Suuruu. 

O  Sleep,  gentle  Sleep, 
Nature's  soft  nurse,  how  have  I  frighted  thee, 
That  thou  no  more  wilt  weigh  my  eyelids  down, 
And  steep  my  senses  in  forgetfulness  ? 
Why  rather,  Sleep,  liest  thou  in  smoky  cribs, 
Upon  uneasy  pallets  stretching  thee, 
And  hushed  with  buzzing  night  flies  to  thy  slumber, 
Than  in  the  perfumed  chambers  of  the  great, 
Under  the  canopies  of  costly  state, 
And  lulled  with  sounds  of  sweetest  melody  ? 
0  thou  dull  god  !  why  liest  thou  with  the  vile, 
In  loathsome  beds,  and  leav'st  the  kingly  couch, 
A  watch  case  to  a  common  'larum  bell  ? 
Wilt  thou,  upon  the  high  and  giddy  mast, 
Seal  up  the  ship  boy's  eyes,  and  rock  his  brains 
In  cradle  of  the  rude,  imperious  surge  ; 
And,  in  the  visitation  of  the  winds, 
Who  take  the  ruffian  billows  by  the  top, 
Curling  their  monstrous  heads,  and  hanging  them 
With  deafening  clamors  in  the  slippery  shrouds, 
That,  with  the  hurly,  Death  itself  awakes  ?  — 
Canst  thou,  O  partial  Sleep !  give  thy  repose 
To  the  wet  sea  boy,  in  an  hour  so  rude, 
And  in  the  calmest  and  the  stillest  night, 
With  all  appliances  and  means  to  boot, 
Deny  it  to  a  king  ?     Then,  happy,  lowly  clown  • 
Uneasy  lies  the  head  that  wears  a  crown 


Sabbath  Morning.  —  N.  Y.  Papbb. 

It  is  the  Sabbath  morn !  A  mild,  genial  sky,  breathing  the 
ineffable  delights  of  spring,  arches  overhead ;  the  sunshine,  aa 
yet  wan  and  pallid,  like  the  smile  of  a  convalescent  patient,  not 
yet  ripened  into  the  warm,  fervid  glory  of  summer  days,  streams 
through  the  hazy  atmosphere  :  all  is  calm  and  peaceful,  and 
amidst  the  general  repose  comes  the  first  heavy  stroke  of  the 
quiet  church  bell,  sending  its  quivering  vibrations  through  the 
air.  A  moment's  pause,  and  now  another  bell  responds ;  and 
hark  !  another  and  another ;  and  so  the  peal  goes  on  from  stee 


SABBATH   M011N1NG.  421 

pie  to  steeple,  weaving  an  airy  chain  of  music  over  the  whole 
The  belfry  pigeons,  startled  from  their  nodding  slumbers,  soar 
away  from  the  concussions  of  the  air,  but  not  in  terror.  They 
perch  upon  neighboring  eaves  and  ridge  poles,  cooing  and 
pluming  themselves,  perfectly  secure  in  the  universal  armistice 
The  musical  clangor  continues,  swelling  to  a  grand  orchestral 
diapason.  Seaward  it  floats  from  the  great  commercial  city, 
scattering  a  holy  influence  upon  its  path. 

The  helmsman  hears  it  as  he  stands  at  the  wheel  of  the  home- 
ward bound  bark  gliding  up  the  bay,  past  the  frowning  batteries 
of  tbe  Castle,  and  threading  its  way  among  the  island  gems  of 
the  harbor.  The  bell  music,  softened  by  distance  to  the  gentle 
breathings  of  an  iEkriian  harp,  touches  his  heartstrings,  and  warms 
to  life  the  best  thoughts  of  his  nature.  Mingled  with  the  pleasant 
anticipations  of  meeting  near  and  dear  ones  are  silent  thanskgiv- 
ings  to  the  Power  which  has  preserved  him  in  the  midst  of  the 
perils  of  the  stormy  deep.  As  he  approaches  the  welcome  pier, 
his  moistened  eye  seeks,  above  the  tracery  of  masts  and  flutter 
mg  signals,  the  blue  flag  of  the  Bethel  —  the  sign  of  salvation  to 
the  mariner  on  shore.  And  now  all  is  silent ;  the  tolling  of  the 
bell  has  ceased  —  the  noise  of  footsteps  on  the  sidewalks  is 
hushed,  for  all  are  gathered  in  their  respective  houses  of  wor- 
ship, listening  to  the  voice  of  prayer  and  exhortation.  For  a 
space  the  minds  of  men  are  estranged  from  the  toils,  and  strifes 
and  bitter  cares,  and  biting  enmities  of  this  existence,  and  follow- 
ing the  pathway  of  light  to  the  happier  and  better  life.  But 
westward,  pursuing  the  course  of  the  sun,  rolls  the  tide  of  sacred 
music,  making  the  circuit  of  the  land.  It  pours  through  the 
gorges  of  the  mountains,  waking  remote  villages  with  its  glaa 
tidings  westward  still. 

In  the  remote  frontier  settlement,  the  hardy  pioneers  and  their 
families  hasten  to  the  first  raised  house  at  the  summons  of  its 
little  bell  —  a  place  of  worship  almost  as  rude  as  that  where  the 
wondrous  life  of  the  Savior  of  the  race  began.  There,  where  of 
late  rang  the  whoop  of  the  savage,  or  the  cry  of  the  wild  beast, 
rise  their  forest  hymns  of  praise.  A  few  years  hence,  ere  the 
dark  curls  of  those  manly  foresters  are  flecked  with  silver,  or 
their  stalwart  forms  bowed  by  the  hand  of  age,  some  consecrated 
pile,  rich  in  ornamentation,  will  raise  its  stately  spire  in  the  midst 
of  a  great  city;  but  its  Gothic  roof  will  shield  do  worshipers 
more  sincere  than  those  who  gather  together  in  the  wilderness, 
Still  in  the  pathway  of  the  sun  dawns  the  sacred  day  on  the 
golden  shores  of  the  Pacific,  gleams  along  its  glittering  waters, 
and   breaks   upon    the   summer    isles   of  the   deep,  whero  years 


42!4  ROSS'S   SPEAKER. 

before  the  self-sacrificing  missionary  first  set  up  the  standard  of 
salvation. 

What  were  poor,  toiling,  suffering  humanity  without  this  day  ? 
What  would  be  the  condition  of  our  physical  and  spiritual 
natures  if  there  were  no  rest  here,  to  give  us  a  foretaste  of 
"  that  peace  which  the  world  can  not  give  "  ?  The  mind  shrinks 
from  a  contemplation  of  that  condition  of  things  which  would 
follow  a  suppression  of  the  Sabbath,  with  its  sacred  observances 
and  duties,  and  shudders  at  the  shadowy  images  of  desolation  the 
mere  thought  of  it  conjures  up. 


A   Specimen  of  Pulpit  Eloquence.  —  Bridaine, 

At  the  sight  of  an  auditory  so  new  to  me,  methinks,  my 
brethren,  I  ought  only  to  open  my  mouth  to  solicit  your  favor 
in  behalf  of  a  poor  missionary,  destitute  of  all  those  talents 
which  you  require  of  those  who  speak  to  you  about  your  salva- 
tion. Nevertheless,  I  experience  to-day  a  feeling  very  different. 
And,  if  I  am  cast  down,  suspect  me  not  of  being  depressed 
by  the  wretched  uneasiness  occasioned  by  vanity,  as  if  I  were 
accustomed  to  preach  myself.  God  forbid  that  a  minister  of 
Heaven  should  ever  suppose  he  needed  an  excuse  with  you  !  for, 
whoever  ye  may  be,  ye  are  all  of  you  sinners  like  myself.  It  is 
before  your  God  and  mine  that  I  feel  myself  impelled  at  this 
moment  to  strike  my  breast. 

Until  now  1  have  proclaimed  the  righteousness  of  the  Mosi 
High  in  churches  covered  with  thatch.  I  have  preached  the 
rigors  of  penance  to  the  unfortunate  who  wanted  bread.  I  have 
declared  to  the  good  inhabitants  of  the  country  the  most  awful 
truths  of  my  religion.  Unhappy  man !  what  have  I  done  ?  [ 
have  made  sad  the  poor,  the  best  friends  of  my  God.  I  have 
conveyed  terror  and  grief  into  those  simple  and  honest  souls, 
whom  I  ought  to  have  pitied  and  consoled.  It  is  here  only 
where  I  behold  the  great,  the  rich,  the  oppressors  of  suffering 
humanity,  or  sinners  daring  and  hardened.  Ah,  it  is  here  only 
where  the  sacred  word  should  be  made  to  resound  with  all  the 
force  of  its  thunder,  and  where  I  should  place  with  me  in  this 
pulpit,  on  the  one  side,  death  which  threatens  you,  and  on  the 
other,  my  great  God,  who  is  about  to  judge  you.  But  you  ex- 
pect to  live  for  many  years ! 

What  foundation,  my  brethren,  have  you  for  supporing  your 
dying  day  at  such  a  distance  ?     Is  it  your  youth  ?     "  Yes,"  you 


CHARLES   XII,    OF   SWEDEN.  423 

answer ;  "  I  am  as  yet  but  twenty,  but  thirty."  Sirs,  it  is  not 
you  who  are  twenty  or  thirty  years  old ;  it  is  death,  which  has 
already  advanced  twenty  or  thirty  years  toward  you.  Observe  : 
eternity  approaches.  Do  you  know  what  this  eternity  is  ?  It  is  a 
pendulum  whose  vibration  says  continually, — always — ever  — 
ever  —  always  —  always!  In  the  mean  while,  a  reprobate  cries 
out,  "  What  o'clock  is  it  ? "  And  the  same  voice  answers, 
"  Eternity." 


Charles  XII.  of  Sweden.  —  Da.  Jc-wso*. 

[From  the  Vanity  of  Human  Wishes.] 

On  what  foundations  stands  the  warrior's  pride, 

How  just  his  hopes,  let  Swedish  Charles  decide  ; 

A  frame  of  adamant,  a  soul  of  fire, 

No  dangers  fright  him,  and  no  labors  tire  ; 

O'er  love,  o'er  fear,  extends  his  wide  domain, 

Unconquered  lord  of  pleasure  and  of  pain. 

No  joys  to  him  pacific  scepters  yield  ; 

War  sounds  the  trump,  he  rushes  to  the  field; 

Behold  surrounding  kings  their  power  combine, 

And  one  capitulate,  and  one  resign. 

Peace  courts  his  hand,  but  spreads  her  charms  in  vain ; 

"  Think  nothing  gained,"  he  cries,  "  till  nought  remain, 

On  Moscow's  walls  till  Gothic  standards  fly, 

And  all  be  mine  beneath  the  polar  sky." 

The  march  begins  in  military  state, 

And  nations  on  his  eye  suspended  wait ; 

Stern  famine  guards  the  solitary  coast, 

And  winter  barricades  the  realms  of  frost. 

He  comes,  nor  want  nor  cold  his  course  delay 

Hide,  blushing  glory,  hide  Pultowa's  day : 

The  vanquished  hero  leaves  his  broken  bands, 

And  shows  his  miseries  in  distant  lands; 

Condemned  a  needy  supplicant  to  wait 

While  ladies  interpose,  and  skives  debate. 

Mut  did  not  chance  at  length  her  error  mend  ? 

Did  no  subverted  empire  mark  his  end? 

Did  rival  monarchs  give  the  falal  wound, 

Or  hostile  millions  press  him  to  the  ground? 

His  fall  was  destined  to  a  barren  strand, 

A  petty  fortress,  and  a  dubious  hand  ; 

He  left  a  name,  at  which  the  world  grew  pale 

To  point  a  moral  or  adorn  a  tale. 


424  ROSS'S   SPEAKER. 


The    Warnings  of  History.— Anon. 

The  past  is  secure.  It  is  unalterable.  The  seal  of  eternity  ik 
upon  it.  The  wisdom  which  it  has  displayed  can  not  be  ob- 
scured ;  neither  can  they  be  debased  by  human  folly  or  human 
infirmity.  The  future  is  that  which  may  well  awaken  the  most 
earnest  solicitude,  both  for  the  virtue  and  the  permanence  of  our 
republic.  The  fate  of  other  republics,  their  rise,  their  progress, 
their  decline,  and  their  fall,  are  written  but  too  legibly  on  pages 
of  history,  if  indeed  they  were  not  continually  before  us  in  the 
startling  fragments  of  their  ruins. 

They  have  perished,  and  perished  by  their  own  hands.  Pros- 
perity enervated  them,  corruption  debased  them,  and  a  venal 
populace  consummated  their  destruction.  They  have  sometimes 
been  cheated  out  of  their  liberties  by  servile  demagogues  ;  some- 
times betrayed  into  a  surrender  of  them  by  false  patriots.  They 
have  disregarded  the  warning  voice  of  their  best  statesmen,  and 
have  persecuted  and  driven  from  office  their  best  friends.  They 
have  reverenced  power  more  in  its  high  abuses  and  summary 
movements  than  in  its  calm  and  constitutional  energy.  They 
have  surrendered  to  faction  what  belonged  to  the  country.  Pat- 
ronage and  party,  the  triumph  of  a  leader,  and  the  discontents  of 
a  day,  have  outweighed  all  solid  principles  and  institutions  of 
government. 

Such  are  the  melancholy  lessons  of  the  past  history  of  the 
republics  down  to  our  own.  Let  the  history  of  the  Grecian  and 
Italian  states  warn  us  of  our  danger.  Let  the  American  youth 
never  forget  that  they  possess  a  noble  inheritance,  bought  by  the 
toils,  and  sufferings,  and  blood  of  their  ancestors,  and  capable,  if 
wisely  improved  and  faithfully  guarded,  of  transmitting  to  their 
latest  posterity  all  the  substantial  blessings  of  life,  the  peaceful 
enjoyment  of  liberty,  property,  religion,  and  independence.  The 
structure  has  been  erected  by  architects  of  consummate  skill  and 
fidelity ;  its  arrangements  are  full  of  wisdom  and  order ;  its 
foundations  solid,  and  its  defenses  are  impregnable  from  without. 
It  has  been  reared  for  immortality,  if  the  work  of  man  may  justly 
aspire  to  such  a  title.  It  may,  nevertheless,  perish  in  an  hour  by 
the  folly,  or  corruption,  or  negligence  of  its  only  keepers. 

Republics  are  created  by  the  virtue,  public  spirit,  and  intelli- 
gence of  the  citizens.  They  fall  when  the  wise  are  banished 
from  the  public  councils  because  they  dare  to  be  honest,  and  the 
profligate  are  rewarded  because  they  flatter  the  people  in  order 
to  betray  them. 


LOVE    UF    COUNTRY.  425 


America  the  Land  of  Promise.  —  Everett 

In  that  high  romance,  —  if  romance  it  be,  —  in  which  the  great 
minds  of  antiquity  sketched  the  fortunes  of  the  ages  to  come 
they  pictured  to  themselves  a  favored  region  beyond  the  ocean, 
a  land  of  equal  laws  and  happy  men.  The  primitive  poets  be- 
held it  in  the  islands  of  the  blest ;  the  Doric  bards  fancied  it  in 
the  hyperborean  regions ;  the  sage  of  the  academy  placed  it  in 
the  lost  Atlantis  ;  and  even  the  sterner  spirit  of  Seneca  could 
discern  a  fairer  abode  of  humanity  in  distant  regions  then  un- 
known. 

We  look  back  upon  these  uninspired  predictions,  and  almost 
recoil  from  the  obligation  they  imply.  By  us  must  these  fair 
visions  be  realized  ;  by  us  must  be  fulfilled  these  high  promises 
which  burst  in  trying  hours  from  the  longing  hearts  of  the  cham- 
pions of  truth.  There  are  no  more  continents  or  worlds  to  be 
revealed.  Atlantis  hath  arisen  from  the  ocean  ;  the  farthest 
Thule  is  reached  ;  there  are  no  more  retreats  beyond  the  sea, 
no  more  discoveries,  no  more  hopes.  Here,  then,  a  mighty 
work  is  to  be  fulfilled,  or  never,  by  the  race  of  mortals. 


Love  of  Country. —Cha.rlm  gatarri 

No  man  knows  the  intense  love  he  nourishes  for  his  own 
country  before  he  visits  foreign  lands.  A  man  whilst  at  home 
may  find  fault  with  it ;  but  should  he  by  compulsion,  or  even 
voluntarily,  turn  away  and  depart  from  what  excited  his  dis- 
pleasure, reprobation,  or  disgust  —  why,  lo  !  distance  lends  en- 
chantment to  the  scene  ;  busy  memory  wakes  up  and  stirs  the 
very  depths  of  his  soul ;  endearing  recollections  crowd  upon 
nim  ;  the  cherished  image  of  his  native  country  looms  before 
him  ;  it  becomes  to  him  a  perpetual  mirage,  and  tempts  him 
back  with  outstretched  arms,  like  the  loving  and  forgiving  mother, 
who  is  always  ready  to  welcome  the  return  of  the  prodigal  son. 

If  I  had  ever  entertained  doubts  on  the  subject,  they  would 
have  been  removed  by  what  happened  to  myself.  I  had  been 
compelled  to  go  to  Europe  in  the  hope  of  repairing  a  broken 
constitution,  and  that  hope  had  been  realized  after  a  residence 
of  several  years  in  France.  1  loved  France  before  1  saw  her ;  I 
.oved  her  still  more  when  1  hr-oame  better  acquainted  with  her 
merits.     She  was  the  mother-land  of  some  of  my  ancestors;  her 


426  ROSS'S   SPEAKER. 

history  was  household  history  to  me.  I  took  pride  in  her  strength, 
in  her  civilization,  in  her  prosperity,  and  in  her  prodigious 
achievements  in  peace  and  war.  She  was  the  revered  parent 
of  my  native  state  of  Louisiana.  I  was  received  by  the  French 
as  one  of  them.  I  appreciated  keenly  all  those  social  enjoy- 
ments which  are  to  be  met  with  among  that  highly  refined  and 
chivalrous  people.  I  secured  the  esteem  and  attachment  of 
valuable  friends.  I  became  deeply  grateful  for  hospitalities  ever 
to  be  remembered.  And  yet,  under  such  circumstances,  with 
such  feelings  in  my  breast,  I  could  not  keep  my  imagination 
from  constantly  wandering  back  across  the  Atlantic. 

One  day,  homesick,  I  was  strolling  alone  and  at  random  in 
the  city  of  Marseilles,  where  I  had  just  arrived.  I  was  walking 
with  my  eyes  bent  to  the  ground,  and  careless  which  way  my 
steps  would  lead  me,  when,  suddenly  lifting  up  my  head,  I  found 
myself  in  front  of  the  harbor.  At  a  short  distance,  full  in  view, 
stood  an  American  frigate,  in  all  the  symmetrical  beauty  of  her 
noble  proportions,  and  with  her  proud  flag,  which  I  had  not  seen 
for  several  years,  streaming  in  the  wind.  Rapidly  drawing  near 
the  quay  was  one  of  her  boats,  impelled  by  the  vigorous  arms 
of  a  crew  who  seemed  to  have  been  picked  as  the  fittest  speci- 
mens of  those  stout  hearts  who  are  the  pride  of  our  navy.  At 
the  helm  stood  erect  a  young  officer,  who  looked  worthy  of  being 
the  commander  of  such  men.  At  that  sight  I  felt  as  if  I  had 
received  an  electric  shock  ;  my  whole  body  trembled  with  ner- 
vous excitement ;  the  blood  rushed  to  my  heart ;  my  eyes  be- 
came moist  with  tears,  and  I  gazed  on  entranced.  Ah,  had 
France  loaded  me  with  all  the  honors  and  wealth  which  the 
ambition  of  man  can  crave,  —  had  I  a  hundred  times  sworn  alle- 
giance to  her,  and  renounced  the  United  States,  —  I  felt,  at  the 
moment  I  speak  of,  that  had  the  safety  of  that  frigate,  on  which 
my  eyes  were  riveted,  been  threatened  by  those  fortifications 
which  surrounded  her,  my  choice  would  have  been  made  at 
once.  I  would  have  said  to  France,  "  Touch  her  not ;  lay  not 
thy  fingers  on  a  single  one  of  her  spars  ;  or  take  back  the  honors, 
the  titles,  the  wealth  showered  upon  me.  I  return  to  that  first 
allegiance  which  was  inscribed  in  my  heart  by  God.  I  will 
plant  my  foot  on  the  deck  above  which  waves  that  flag  which  I 
can  not  live  to  see  pulled  down,  and  my  destinies  shall  cling  to 
the  last  plank  of  that  ship  as  long  as  it  floats  upon  the  water." 
It  was  a  lesson  taught  me  that  will  long  be  remembered. 


THE   SOUTH.  427 


Tlie  South.  —  Jefferson  Datis, 


The  son  of  a  revolutionary  soldier,  attachment  to  thij  Union 
was  among  the  first  lessons  of  my  childhood.  Bred  to  the  service 
of  my  country,  from  boyhood  to  mature  age  I  wore  its  uniform 
Through  the  brightest  portion  of  my  life  I  was  accustomed  t< 
see  our  flag,  historic  emblem  of  the  Union,  rise  with  the  rising 
and  fall  with  the  setting  sun.  I  look  upon  it  now  with  the  affec- 
tion of  early  love,  and  seek  to  maintain  and  preserve  it  by  a 
strict  adherence  to  the  constitution,  from  which  it  had  its  birth, 
and  by  the  nurture  of  which  its  stars  have  come  so  much  to  out- 
number its  original  stripes.  Shall  that  flag,  which  has  gathered 
fresh  glory  in  every  war,  and  become  more  radiant  still  by  the 
conquest  of  peace,  —  shall  that  flag  now  be  torn  by  domestic  fac- 
tion, and  trodden  in  the  dust  by  petty  sectional  rivalry  ?  Shall 
we  of  the  South,  who  have  shared  equally  with  you  all  your 
toils,  all  your  dangers,  all  your  adversities,  and  who  equally 
rejoice  in  your  prosperity  and  your  fame,  shall  we  be  denied 
those  benefits  guaranteed  by  our  compact,  or  gathered  as  the 
common  fruits  of  a  common  country  ?  If  so,  self-respect  re- 
quires that  we  should  assert  them,  and,  as  best  we  may,  maintain 
that  which  we  could  not  surrender  without  losing  your  respect  as 
well  as  our  own. 

If,  sir,  this  spirit  of  sectional  aggrandizement  shall  cause  the 
disunion  of  these  states,  the  last  chapter  of  our  .listory  will  be  a 
sad  commentary  upon  the  justice  and  the  wisdom  of  our  people. 
That  this  Union,  replete  with  blessings  to  its  own  citizens,  and 
diffusive  of  hope  to  the  rest  of  mankind,  should  fall  a  victim  to  a 
selfish  aggrandizement  and  a  pseudo  philanthropy,  prompting 
one  portion  of  the  Union  to  war  upon  the  .:r rustic  rights  and 
^cace  of  anther,  would  be  a  deep  reflection  on  the  good  sense 
and  jntriotism  of  our  day  and  generation. 

Sir,  I  ask  northern  senators  to  make  the  case  their  own;  to 
carry  to  their  own  fireside  the  idea  of  such  intrusion  and  offen- 
sive discrimination  as  is  offered  to  us  ;  realize  these  irritations. 
bo  'jailing  to  the  humble,  so  intolerable  to  the  haughty;  and 
wake,  before  it  is  too  late,  from  the  dream  that  the  South  will 
tamely  submit.  Measure  the  consequences  to  us  of  your  assump- 
tion, and  ask  you  selves  whether,  as  a  free,  honorable,  and 
brave  people,  you  would  submit  to  it  ? 

It  is  essentially  the  characteristic  of  the  chivalrous  that  they 
never  speculate  upon  the  fears  of  any  man ;  and  I  trust  that  no 
such  speculations  will  he  made  upon  either  the  condition  or  the 


428  ROSS'S   SPEAKER. 

supposed  weakness  of  the  South.  They  will  bring  sad  disap- 
pointments to  those  who  indulge  them.  Rely  upon  her  devotion 
to  the  Union  ;  rely  upon  the  feeling  of  fraternity  she  inherited 
and  has  never  failed  to  manifest ;  rely  upon  the  nationality  and 
freedom  from  sedition  which  has  in  all  ages  characterized  an 
agricultural  people ;  give  her  justice,  sheer  justice,  and  the 
reliance  will  never  fail  you. 


Similitudes.  —  Jambs. 

I've  sat  and  seen  one  bright  wave  chase 

Its  fellow  on  the  strand, 
Then  fall  away,  nor  leave  a  trace 

Upon  the  printless  sand. 
Though  scarce  the  pebbles  felt  the  shock, 
The  waves  have  worn  the  solid  rock. 

I've  sat  and  heard  the  autumn  wind 

Amid  the  branches  play, 
So  softly  mild,  so  blandly  kind, 

It  scarcely  stirred  the  spray  } 
Yet  soon  it  bore  spring's  verdant  birth 
To  wither  on  its  native  earth. 

I've  sat  and  seen  the  evening  sun 

Sink  from  the  golden  sky, 
His  long  bright  race  of  glory  run, 

And  close  his  golden  eye. 
So  slow  he  passed,  scarce  changed  the  light 
And  yet  he  left  the  world  in  night. 

And  like  yon  sea  is  human  life ; 

Events  like  billows  roll  ; 
Moment  on  moment,  strife  on  strife, 

That  change  us  to  the  soul  ; 
And  joys  like  autumn  leaves  fall  fast ; 
Hope  sets,  and  being's  light  is  past. 

I've  stood  on  earth's  most  daring  height, 

And  seen  dny's  ruler  rise 
In  his  magnificence  of  light, 

To  triumph  through  the  *kies, 


CHAHACr.HR   OF   BLANNERHASSETT.  42* 

And  all  the  darkness  of  the  world 
Far  from  his  shining  presence  hurled. 

All,  too,  that  fades  upon  the  earth, 

Too  weak  to  linger  here, 
Re-blossoms  with  a  second  birth, 

To  deck  the  coming  year. 
Shall  hope,  then,  man's  eternal  dower, 
Be  frailer  than  a  failing  flower  ? 

Ah,  no  !  like  autumn  leaves  that  die, 

That  bloom  again  in  spring, 
Fresh  joys  shall  rise  from  those  gone  by, 

And  purer  incense  bring  ; 
And  when,  like  suns,  hope  sets  in  night, 
Shall  she  not  beam  from  worlds  more  bright  ? 


Character  of  Blannerhassett.  —  Wiet, 

Who,  then,  is  Blannerhassett  ?  A  native  of  Ireland,  a  man 
of  letters,  who  fled  from  the  storms  of  his  own  country  to  find 
quiet  in  ours.  Possessing  himself  of  a  beautiful  island  in  the 
Ohio,  he  rears  upon  it  a  palace,  and  decorates  it  with  every 
romantic  embellishment  of  fancy.  A  shrubbery  that  Shenstone 
might  have  envied  blooms  around  him.  Music  that  might  have 
charmed  Calypso  and  her  nymphs  is  his.  An  extensive  library 
spreads  its  treasures  before  him.  A  philosophical  apparatus 
offers  to  him  all  the  secrets  and  mysteries  of  nature.  Peace, 
tranquillity,  and  innocence  shed  their  mingled  delights  around 
him.  The  evidence  would  convince  you  that  this  is  but  a  faint 
picture  of  the  real  life.  In  the  midst  of  all  this  peace,  this  inno- 
cent simplicity  and  this  tranquillity,  this  feast  of  the  mind,  this 
pure  banquet  of  the  heart,  the  destroyer  comes  ;  he  comes  to 
change  this  paradise  into  a  hell.  A  stranger  presents  himself. 
Introduced  to  their  civilities  by  the  high  rank  which  he  had 
lately  held  in  his  country,  he  soon  finds  his  way  to  their  hearts 
>y  the  dignity  and  elegance  of  his  demeanor,  the  light  and 
beauty  of  his  conversation,  and  the  seductive  and  fascinating 
power  of  his  address. 

The  conquest  was  not  difficult.  Innocence  is  ever  simple  and 
credulous.  Conscious  of  no  design  itself,  it  suspects  none  in 
others.     It  wears  no  guard  before  its  breast.     Every  door,  and 

T 


430  ROSS'S   SPEAKER 

portal,  and  avenue  of  the  heart  is  thrown  open,  and  all  who 
choose  it  may  enter.  Such  was  the  state  of  Eden  when  the 
serpent  entered  its  bowers.  The  prisoner,  in  a  more  engaging 
form,  winding  himself  into  the  open  and  unpracticed  heart  of  the 
unfortunate  Blannerhassett,  found  but  little  difficulty  hi  changing 
the  native  character  of  that  heart,  and  the  objects  of  its  affection. 
By  degrees,  he  infuses  into  it  the  fire  of  his  own  courage  ;  a  dar- 
ing and  desperate  thirst  for  glory ;  an  ardor  panting  for  great 
enterprises,  for  all  the  storm,  and  bustle,  and  hurricane  of  life. 
In  a  short  time,  the  whole  man  is  changed,  and  every  object  of 
his  former  delight  is  relinquished.  No  more  he  enjoys  the  tran- 
quil scene  ;  it  has  become  flat  and  insipid  to  his  taste.  His  books 
are  abandoned.  His  retort  and  crucible  are  thrown  aside.  His 
shrubbery  blooms  and  breathes  its  fragrance  upon  the  air  in 
vain  ;  he  likes  it  not.  His  ear  no  longer  drinks  the  rich  melody 
of  music  ;  it  longs  for  the  trumpet's  clangor  and  the  cannon's 
roar.  Even  the  prattle  of  his  babes,  once  so  sweet,  no  longer 
affects  him  ;  and  the  angel  smile  of  his  wife,  which  hitherto 
touched  his  bosom  with  ecstasy  so  unspeakable,  is  now  unseen 
and  unfelt. 

Greater  objects  have  taken  possession  of  his  soul.  His  ima- 
gination has  been  dazzled  by  visions  of  diadems,  of  stars,  and 
garters,  and  titles  of  nobility.  He  has  been  taught  to  burn,  with 
•restless  emulation,  at  the  names  of  great  heroes  and  conquerors. 
His  enchanted  island  is  destined  soon  to  relapse  into  a  wilder- 
ness ;  and,  in  a  few  months,  the  beautiful  and  tender  partner  of 
his  bosom,  whom  he  lately  "  permitted  not  the  winds  of  summer 
to  visit  too  roughly,"  we  find  shivering,  at  midnight,  on  the  win- 
ter banks  of  the  Ohio,  and  mingling  her  tears  with  the  torrents, 
that  froze  as  they  fell.  Yet  this  unfortunate  man,  thus  deluded 
from  his  interest  and  his  happiness,  thus  seduced  from  the  paths 
of  innocence  and  peace,  thus  confounded  in  the  toils  that  were 
deliberately  spread  for  him,  and  overwhelmed  by  the  mastering 
spirit  and  genius  of  another,  —  this  man,  thus  ruined  and  un- 
done, and  made  to  play  a  subordinate  part  in  this  grand  drama 
of  guilt  and  treason,  this  man  is  to  be  called  the  principal  offend- 
er, while  he  by  whom  he  was  thus  plunged  in  misery  is  com- 
paratively innocent,  a  mere  accessory  ! 

Is  this  reason  ?  Is  it  law  ?  Is  it  humanity  ?  Neither  the 
human  heart  nor  the  human  understanding  will  bear  a  perver- 
sion so  monstrous  and  absurd  !  so  shocking  to  the  so-ri  !  so  revolt 
ing  to  reason ! 


AGRICULTURE.  43 1 


Agriculture.  —  D.  S.  Dickinson. 

We  have  the  high  authority  of  history,  sacred  and  profane, 
for  declaring  that  agriculture  is  a  dignified  and  time-honored 
calling  —  ordained  and  favored  of  Heaven,  and  sanctioned  by 
experience  ;  and  we  are  invited  to  its  pursuit  by  the  rewards  of 
the  past  and  the  present,  and  the  rich  promises  of  the  future. 
While  the  fierce  spirit  of  war,  with  its  embattled  legions,  has, 
in  its  proud  triumphs,  "  whelmed  nations  in  blood,  and  wrapped 
cities  in  fire,"  and  filled  the  land  with  lamentation  and  mourning, 
it  has  not  brought  peace  or  happiness  to  a  single  hearth  —  dried 
the  tears  of  the  widows  or  hushed  the  cries  of  the  orphans  it  has 
made  —  bound  up  or  soothed  one  crushed  or  broken  spirit  —  nor 
heightened  the  joys  of  domestic  or  social  life  in  a  single  bosom. 
But  how  many  dark  recesses  of  the  earth  has  agriculture  illu- 
mined with  its  blessings !  How  many  firesides  has  it  lighted  up 
with  radiant  gladness !  How  many  hearts  has  it  made  buoyant 
with  domestic  hope  !  How  often,  like  the  good  Samaritan,  has  it 
alleviated  want  and  misery,  while  the  priest  and  Levite  of  power 
have  passed  by  on  the  other  side  !  How  many  family  altars, 
and  gathering  places  of  affection,  has  it  erected !  How  many 
desolate  homes  has  it  cheered  by  its  consolations  !  How  have 
its  peaceful  and  gentle  influences  filled  the  land  with  plenteous- 
ness  and  riches,  and  made  it  vocal  with  praise  and  thanksgiving! 

It  has  pleased  the  benevolent  Author  of  our  existence  to  set  in 
boundless  profusion  before  us  the  necessary  elements  for  a  high 
state  of  cultivation  and  enjoyment.  Blessings  cluster  around  us 
like  fruits  of  the  land  of  promise,  and  Science  unfolds  her  treas- 
ures and  invites  us  to  partake,  literally  without  money  and  with- 
out price.  The  propensities  of  our  nature,  as  well  as  the  philos- 
ophy of  our  being,  serve  to  remind  us  that  man  was  formed  for 
care  and  labor  —  for  the  acquisition  and  enjoyment  of  property  — 
for  society  and  government  —  to  wrestle  with  the  elements  around 
him—  and  that  by  an  active  exercise  of  his  powers  and  faculties 
alone  can  he  answer  the  ends  of  his  creation,  or  exhibit  his  ex- 
alted attributes.  His  daily  wants,  in  all  conditions  of  life,  prompt 
him  i"  exertion,  and  the  spirit  of  acquisition,  so  deeply  implanted 
in  the  human  breast  —  that  "  ruling  passion  strong  in  death,"  so 
universally  diffused  through  the  whole  family  of  man  —  is  the 
parent  of  that  laudable  enterprise  which  has  caused  the  wilderness 
to  hud  and  blossom  like  the  rose,  planted  domestic  enjoyments  in 
the  lair  of  the  beast  of  prey,  and  transformed  the  earth  from  an 
uncultivated  wild  into  one  vast  storehouse  of  subsistence  and  en- 
joyment. 


432  ROSS'S  SPEAKER. 

What  can  be  more  acceptable  to  the  patriot  or  the  philanthro« 
pist  than  to  behold  the  great  mass  of  mankind  raised  above  the 
degrading  influences  of  tyranny  and  indolence,  to  the  rational 
enjoyment  of  the  bounties  of  their  Creator?  —  to  see,  in  the 
productions  of  man's  magic  powers,  the  cultivated  country,  the 
fragrant  meadow,  the  waving  harvest,  the  smiling  garden,  and 
the  tasteful  dwelling,  and  himself  chastened  by  the  precepts  of 
religion,  and  elevated  by  the  refinements  of  science,  partaking 
of  the  fruits  of  his  own  industry,  with  the  proud  consciousness 
that  he  eats  not  the  bread  of  idleness  or  fraud  ;  that  his  gains  are 
not  wet  with  the  tears  of  misfortune,  nor  wrung  from  his  fellow 
by  the  devices  of  avarice  or  extortion ;  his  joys  heightened,  his 
sorrows  alleviated,  and  his  heart  rectified  by  the  cheering  voice 
and  Heaven-born  influences  of  woman  ?  Well  may  he  sit  down 
under  his  own  vine  and  fig  tree  without  fear  of  molestation,  and 
nis  nightly  repose  be  more  quiet  than  that  of  the  stately  monarch 
of  the  East  upon  his  down  of  cygnets,  or  the  voluptuous  Sybarite 
upon  his  bed  of  roses. 


An  Appeal  for  Union.  — J.  m.  Bekbibk. 

Sib,  I  do  not  limit  my  appeal  to  southern  senators  ;  I  address 
myself  to  senators  from  whatever  quarter  of  the  Union.  I  ap- 
peal to  them  as  American  senators,  and  I  adjure  them  by  their 
recollections  of  the  past  —  by  their  hopes  of  the  future  —  as  they 
value  the  free  institutions  which  the  mercy  of  Providence  per- 
mits us  to  enjoy  —  by  all  these  considerations  I  entreat  them  to 
unite  with  us  in  excluding  from  the  national  councils  this  demon 
of  discord.  The  acquisition  of  territory  which  it  is  proposed  to 
accomplish  by  this  bill  must  bring  upon  us,  with  accumulated 
force,  a  question  which  even  now  menaces  the  permanence  of 
our  Union.  I  know  the  firmness  of  your  determination  to  exert 
your  constitutional  powers  to  prevent  the  extension  of  our 
domestic  institutions.  I  know  the  various  considerations  which 
unite  to  constitute  that  determination,  and  to  give  to  it  its  unyield- 
ing, irrevocable  character.  I  do  not  mean  to  discuss  this  question 
with  you,  still  less  to  speak  in  the  language  of  menace.  That  is 
alike  forbidden  by  my  respect  for  myself,  for  you,  and  for  the 
dignity  and  the  interests  of  my  constituents  ;  but  I  entreat  you  to 
listen  to  truth,  dispassionately,  calmly  announced  to  you. 

Your  determination  to  deny  this  right  to  the  South  is  not  more 
fixed  and  unwavering  than  theirs  to  assert  it.    You  do  not  believe 


LOYALTY  TO  THE  CONSTITUTION.  433 

mat  southern  men  will  silently  acquiesce  in,  will  tamely  submit 
to  the  denial  to  them  of  that  which,  in  their  deliberate  judgment, 
is  the  common  right  of  all  the  people  of  the  United  States.  If 
we  have  a  right  to  acquire  territory  —  if  that  acquisition  be  made 
by  the  common  effort  of  all  the  states  —  by  the  blood  and  treas- 
ure of  all  —  if  all  have  a  common  right  to  share  what  all  have 
united  to  acquire,  —  then  the  exclusion  of  the  South  must  result  in 
one  of  two  things.  They  must  give  an  unexampled  manifesta- 
tion of  their  devotion  to  the  bond  of  our  Federal  Union,  by  sub- 
mitting to  this  exclusion,  or  sadly,  though  resolutely,  determine, 
at  whatever  hazard,  and  even  against  you  their  brothers  in  that 
sacred  bond,  to  assert  and  maintain  their  rights.  You  know  them 
well  enough  to  know  which  of  these  alternatives  they  will  adopt. 
I  do  most  earnestly  hope  that  we  may  never  be  brought  to  so 
fearful  a  crisis.  The  danger  menaces  us  even  now ;  but  the 
patriotism  and  intelligence  of  the  American  people  will,  I  trust, 
avert  it ;  will  teach  us,  and  will  teach  you,  that  our  safety,  that 
your  safety,  that  the  common  safety  of  all  alike,  forbid  the  acqui- 
sition of  territory,  if  we  would  continue  to  enjoy  the  precious  leg- 
acy which  has  been  transmitted  to  us  —  a  rich,  almost  boundless 
domain,  capable  of  ministering  to  all  our  wants,  of  gratifying  all 
our  desires,  and  a  glorious  constitution,  which  a  world  in  arms 
would  vainly  assail  while  we  rally  round  it  in  our  united  strength. 


Loyalty  to  the  Constitution.  —  Stbphbn  a.  Douolab. 

Oub  forefathers  held  that  the  people  had  an  inherent  right  to 
establish  such  constitution  and  laws  for  the  government  of  them- 
selves and  their  posterity  as  they  should  deem  best  calculated  to 
insure  the  protection  of  life,  liberty,  and  the  pursuit  of  happiness  ; 
and  that  the  same  might  be  altered  and  changed  as  experience 
should  satisfy  them  to  be  necessary  and  proper.  Upon  this  prin- 
ciple the  constitution  of  the  United  States  was  formed,  and  our 
glorious  Union  established.  All  acts  of  Congress  passed  in  pur- 
suance of  the  constitution  are  declared  to  be  the  supreme  laws 
of  the  land,  and  the  Supreme  Court  of  the  United  States  is 
charged  with  expounding  the  same. 

All  officers  and  magistrates,  under  the  federal  and  state  gov- 
ernments,—  executive,  legislative,  judicial,  and  ministerial, — 
are  required  to  take  an  oath  to  support  the  constitution,  before 
they  can  enter  upon  the  performance  of  their  respective  duties. 
Every  person  born  under  the  constitution  owes  allegiance  to  it; 
28 


434  ROSS'S  SPEAKER. 

and  every  naturalized  citizen  takes  an  oath  to  support  it  Fidel- 
ity to  the  constitution  is  the  only  passport  to  the  enjoyment  of 
rights  under  it.  When  a  senator  elect  presents  his  credentials, 
he  is  not  allowed  to  take  his  seat  until  he  places  his  hand  upon 
the  holy  evangelist,  and  appeals  to  his  God  for  the  sincerity  of 
his  vow  to  support  the  constitution.  He  who  does  this  with  a 
mental  reservation,  or  secret  intention  to  disregard  any  provision 
of  the  constitution,  commits  a  double  crime  —  is  morally  guilty 
of  perfidy  to  his  God  and  treason  to  his  country. 

If  the  constitution  of  the  United  States  is  to  be  repudiated  upon 
the  ground  that  it  is  repugnant  to  the  divine  law,  where  are  the 
friends  of  freedom  and  Christianity  to  look  for  another  and  a 
better  ?  Who  is  to  be  the  prophet  to  reveal  the  will  of  God  and 
establish  a  theocracy  for  us  ? 

I  will  not  venture  to  inquire  what  are  to  be  the  form  and  princi- 
ples of  the  new  government,  or  to  whom  is  to  be  intrusted  the  exe- 
cution of  its  sacred  functions ;  for,  when  we  decide  that  the  wis- 
dom of  our  revolutionary  fathers  was  foolishness,  and  their  piety 
wickedness,  and  destroy  the  only  system  of  self-government  that 
has  ever  realized  the  hopes  of  the  friends  of  freedom,  and 
commanded  the  respect  of  mankind,  it  becomes  us  to  wait 
patiently  until  the  purposes  of  the  latter  day  saints  shall  be  re- 
vealed unto  us. 

For  my  part,  I  am  prepared  to  maintain  and  preserve  inviolate 
the  constitution  as  it  is,  with  all  its  compromises ;  to  stand  or  fall 
by  the  American  Union,  clinging  with  the  tenacity  of  life  to  all 
its  glo  ious  memories  of  the  past  and  precious  hopes  of  the 
future 


Hie  Village  Schoolmaster.  —  goldsmitk. 

Beside  yon  straggling  fence  that  skirts  the  way, 
With  blossomed  furze  unprofitably  gay, 
There,  in  his  noisy  mansion  skilled  to  rule, 
The  village  master  taught  his  little  school ; 
A  man  severe  he  was,  and  stern  to  view  ; 
I  knew  him  well,  and  every  truant  knew. 
Well  had  the  boding  tremblers  learned  to  trace 
The  day's  disasters  in  his  morning's  face ; 
Full  well  they  laughed  with  counterfeited  glee 
At  all  his  jokes,  for  many  a  joke  had  he  ; 
Full  well  the  busy  whisper,  circling  round, 
CJonveyed  the  dismal  tidings  when  he  frowned : 


ARTS  AND  LEARNING  IN  AMERICA.  435 

Yet  he  was  kind ;  or,  if  severe  in  aught, 

The  love  he  bore  to  learning  was  in  fault ; 

The  village  all  declared  how  much  he  knew  ; 

'Twas  certain  he  could  write,  and  cipher  too ; 

Lands  he  could  measure,  terms  and  tides  presage ; 

And  e'en  the  story  ran  that  he  could  gauge ; 

In  arguing,  too,  the  parson  owned  his  skill, 

For  e'en  though  vanquished,  he  could  argue  still ; 

While  words  of  learned  length  and  thundering  sound 

Amazed  the  gazing  rustics  ranged  around ; 

And  still  they  gazed,  and  still  the  wonder  grew, 

That  one  small  head  could  carry  all  he  knew. 

But  past  is  all  his  fame  :  the  very  spot 

Where  many  a  time  he  triumphed  is  forgot. 


Prospect  of  planting  the  Arts  and  Learning  in 

America.  —  Berkeley, 

Thb  Muse,  disgusted  at  an  age  and  clime 

Barren  of  every  glorious  theme, 
In  distant  lands  now  waits  a  better  time, 

Producing  subjects  worthy  fame. 

In  happy  climes,  where  from  the  genial  sun 

And  virgin  earth  such  scenes  ensue, 
The  force  of  art  by  nature  seems  outdone, 

And  fancied  beauties  by  the  true. 

In  happy  climes,  the  seat  of  innocence, 
Where  nature  guides  and  virtue  rules, 

Where  men  shall  not  impose  for  truth  and  sense 
The  pedantry  of  courts  and  schools, — 

There  shall  be  sung  another  golden  age, 

The  rise  of  empire  and  of  arts, 
The  good  and  great  inspiring  epic  rage, 

The  wisest  heads  and  noblest  hearts. 

Not  such  as  Europe  breeds  in  her  decay ; 

Such  as  she  bred  when  fresh  and  young, 
When  heavenly  flame  did  animate  her  clay, 

By  future  poets  shall  be  sung. 


\'d%  HOSS'S   SPEAKER. 

Westward  the  course  of  empire  takes  its  way ; 

The  four  first  acts  already  past, 
A  fifth  shall  close  the  drama  with  the  day ; 

Time's  noblest  offspring  is  the  last. 


Address  to  his  Soldiers.— Frahom  Marion. 

Well,  gentlemen,  you  see  your  situation — widely  different 
from  what  it  once  was.  Yes,  once  we  were  a  happy  people. 
Liberty  shone  upon  our  land,  bright  as  the  sun  that  gilds  yon 
fields ;  while  we  and  our  fathers  rejoiced  in  its  lovely  beams, 
gay  as  the  birds  that  enliven  our  forests.  But,  alas  !  those  golden 
days  are  gone,  and  the  cloud  of  war  now  hangs  dark  and  lower- 
ing over  our  heads.  Our  once  peaceful  land  is  now  filled  with 
uproar  and  death.  Foreign  ruffians,  braving  us  up  to  our 
very  firesides  and  altars,  leave  us  no  alternative  but  slavery  or 
death. 

Two  gallant  armies  have  been  marched  to  our  assistance ; 
but,  for  lack  of  competent  commanders,  both  have  been  lost. 
That  under  General  Lincoln,  after  having  been  duped  and  butch- 
ered at  Savannah,  was  at  last  completely  trapped  at  Charleston. 
And  that  under  General  Gates,  after  having  been  imprudently 
overmarched,  is  now  cut  up  at  Camden.  Thus  are  all  our  hopes 
from  the  north  entirely  at  an  end ;  and  poor  Carolina  is  left  to 
shift  for  herself.  A  sad  shift  indeed,  when  not  one  in  a  thousand 
of  her  own  children  will  rise  to  take  her  part,  but,  on  the  con- 
trary, are  madly  taking  part  with  the  enemy  against  her.  And 
now,  my  countrymen,  I  want  to  know  your  minds.  As  to  my 
own,  that  has  long  been  made  up. 

I  consider  my  life  as  but  a  moment.  But  I  also  consider  that 
to  fill  that  moment  with  duty  is  my  all.  To  guard  my  innocent 
country  against  the  evils  of  slavery  seems  now  my  greates* 
duty  ;  and  therefore  I  am  determined  that  while  I  live  she  shall 
never  be  enslaved.  She  may  come  to  that  wretched  state  for 
what  I  know,  but  my  eyes  shall  never  behold  it.  Never  shall 
she  clank  her  chains  in  my  ears,  and  pointing  to  the  ignomin- 
ious badge,  exclaim,  "  It  was  your  cowardice  that  brought  me 
to  this." 


SONG  OF  MARION'S  MEN.  4^J 


Song  of  Marion's  Men.  —  William  C.  Bbtajtt 

Oub  band  is  few,  but  true  and  tried, 

Our  leader  frank  and  bold ; 
The  British  soldier  trembles 

When  Marion's  name  is  told. 
Our  fortress  is  the  good  green  wood, 

Our  tent  the  cypress  tree ; 
We  know  the  forest  round  us, 

As  seamen  know  the  sea. 
We  know  its  walls  of  thorny  vines, 

Its  glades  of  reedy  grass, 
Its  safe  and  silent  islands 

Within  the  dark  morass. 

Wo,  to  the  English  soldiery 

That  little  dread  us  near ! 
On  them  shall  light,  at  midnight, 

A  strange  and  sudden  fear  ; 
When  waking  to  their  tents  on  fire 

They  grasp  their  arms  in  vain, 
And  they  who  stand  to  face  us 

Are  beat  to  earth  again ; 
And  they  who  fly  in  terror  deem 

A  mighty  host  behind, 
And  hear  the  tramp  of  thousands 

Upon  the  hollow  wind. 

Grave  men  they  are  by  broad  Santee, 

Grave  men  with  hoary  hairs ; 
Their  hearts  are  all  with  Marion ; 

For  Marion  are  their  prayers. 
And  lovely  ladies  greet  our  band 

With  kindliest  welcoming, 
With  smiles  like  those  of  summer, 

And  tears  like  those  of  spring. 
For  them  we  wear  those  trusty  arms, 

And  lay  them  down  no  more, 
Till  we  have  driven  the  Briton, 

Forever,  from  our  shore. 


l>  * 


438  ROSS'S  SPEAKER. 


The  Fate  of  the  Indians.  —  Stobt. 

There  is,  indeed,  in  the  fate  of  the  unfortunate  Indians  much 
\o  awaken  our  sympathy,  and  much  to  disturb  the  sobriety  of 
our  judgment ;  much  which  may  be  urged  to  excuse  their  own 
atrocities ;  much  in  their  characters  which  betrays  us  into  an  in- 
voluntary admiration.  What  can  be  more  melancholy  than  their 
nistory  ?  By  a  law  of  their  nature,  they  seem  destined  to  a  slow 
but  sure  extinction.  Every  where,  at  the  approach  of  the  white 
man,  they  fade  away.  We  hear  the  rustling  of  their  footsteps, 
like  that  of  the  withered  leaves  of  autumn,  and  they  are  gone 
forever.     They  pass  mournfully  by  us,  and  they  return  no  more. 

Two  centuries  ago,  the  smoke  of  their  wigwams  and  the  fires 
of  their  councils  rose  in  every  valley,  from  Hudson's  Bay  to  the 
farthest  Florida  —  from  the  ocean  to  the  Mississippi  and  the 
lakes.  The  shouts  of  victory  and  the  war  dance  rang  through 
the  mountains  and  the  glades.  The  thick  arrows  and  the  deadly 
tomahawk  whistled  through  the  forests,  and  the  hunter's  trace 
and  the  dark  encampment  startled  the  wild  beasts  in  their  lairs. 

But  where  are  they  ?  Where  are  the  villages,  and  warriors, 
and  youth — the  sachems  and  the  tribes  —  the  hunters  and  their 
families  ?  They  have  perished.  They  are  consumed.  The 
wasting  pestilence  has  not  alone  done  the  mighty  work.  No ; 
nor  famine,  nor  war.  There  has  been  a  mightier  power,  a  moral 
canker,  which  hath  eaten  into  their  heart  cores  ;  a  plague,  which 
the  touch  of  the  white  man  communicated ;  a  poison,  which  be- 
trayed them  into  a  lingering  ruin.  The  winds  of  the  Atlantic 
fan  not  a  single  region  which  they  may  now  call  their  own.  Al- 
ready the  last  feeble  remnants  of  the  race  are  preparing  for 
their  journey  beyond  the  Mississippi.  I  see  them  leave  their 
miserable  homes,  the  aged,  the  helpless,  the  women,  and  the 
warriors,  "  few  and  faint,  yet  fearless  still." 

The  ashes  are  cold  on  their  native  hearths.  The  smoke  no 
longer  curls  round  their  lowly  cabins.  They  move  on  with  a 
slow,  unsteady  step.  The  white  man  is  upon  their  heels,  for 
terror  or  dispatch  ;  but  they  heed  him  not.  They  turn  to  take  a 
last  look  of  their  deserted  villages.  They  cast  a  last  glance  upon 
the  graves  of  their  fathers.  They  shed  no  tears  ;  they  utter 
no  cries ;  they  heave  no  groans.  There  is  something  in  their 
hearts  which  passes  speech ;  there  is  something  in  their  looks. 
not  of  vengeance  or  submission,  but  of  hard  necessity,  which 
stifles  both ;  which  chokes  all  utterance ;  which  has  no  aim  or 
method.  It  is  courage  absorbed  in  despair.  They  linger  but  for 
a  moment.     Their  look  is  onward.     They  have  passed  the  fatal 


STUDY   OF   ORATORY   IN    GREECE  AND   ROME.    439 

stream.  It  shall  never  be  repassed  by  them  —  no,  never  !  Yet 
there  lies  not  between  us  and  them  an  impassable  gulf.  They 
know  and  feel  that  there  is  for  them  still  one  remove  farther 
not  distant,  nor  unseen.  It  is  to  the  general  burial-ground  of 
the  race. 


The  Example  of  our  Forefathers.  —  Spakxs. 

The  instructive  lesson  of  history,  teaching  by  example,  can  no- 
where be  studied  with  more  profit,  or  with  a  better  promise,  than 
in  the  revolutionary  period  of  America ;  and  especially  by  us 
who  sit  under  the  tree  our  fathers  have  planted,  en^y  Js  shade, 
and  are  nourished  by  its  fruits.  But  little  is  our  merit  or  gain 
that  we  applaud  their  deeds,  unless  we  emulate  their  virtues. 
Love  of  country  was  in  them  an  absorbing  principle,  an  undivid- 
ed feeling  ;  not  of  a  fragment,  a  section,  but  of  the  whole  country. 
Union  was  the  arch  on  which  they  raised  the  strong  tower  of  a 
nation's  independence.  Let  the  arm  be  palsied  that  would  loosen 
one  stone  in  the  basis  of  this  fair  structure,  or  mar  its  beauty ; 
the  tongue  mute  that  would  dishonor  their  names,  by  calculating 
the  value  of  that  which  they  deemed  without  price. 

They  have  left  us  an  example  already  inscribed  in  the  world's 
memory  ;  an  example  portentous  to  the  aims  of  tyranny  in  every 
land  ;  an  example  that  will  console  in  all  ages  the  drooping  as- 
pirations of  oppressed  humanity.  They  have  left  us  a  written 
charter  as  a  legacy,  and  as  a  guide  to  our  course.  But  every 
day  convinces  us  that  a  written  charter  may  become  powerless. 
Ignorance  may  misinterpret  it ;  ambition  may  assail  and  faction 
destroy  its  vital  parts ;  and  aspiring  knavery  may  at  last  sing  its 
requiem  on  the  tomb  of  departed  liberty.  It  is  the  spirit  which 
lives:  in  this  are  our  safety  and  our  hope  —  the  spirit  of  our 
fathers  ;  and  while  this  dwells  deeply  in  our  remembrance,  and 
its  flame  is  cherished,  ever  burning,  ever  pure,  on  the  altar  of 
our  hearts,  —  while  it  incites  us  to  think  as  they  have  thought,  and 
do  as  they  have  done, —  the  honor  and  the  praise  will  be  ours  to 
have  preserved  unimpaired  the  rich  inheritance  which  they  so 
nobly  achieved. 


The  Study  of  Oratory  in  Greece  and  Rome.  —  Wirt. 

In  the  ancient  republics  of  Greece  and   Rome,  oratory  was  a 
necessary  branch  of  a  finished  education.     A  much  smaller  pro 


440  ROSS'S  SPEAKER. 

portion  of  the  citizens  were  educated  than  among  us ;  but  of  these 
a  much  larger  number  became  orators.  No  man  could  hope  for 
distinction  or  influence,  and  yet  slight  this  art.  The  commanders 
of  their  armies  were  orators  as  well  as  soldiers,  and  ruled  as  well 
by  their  rhetorical  as  by  their  military  skill.  There  was  no 
trusting  with  them,  as  with  us,  to  a  natural  facility,  or  the  acqui- 
sition of  an  accidental  fluency  by  actual  practice. 

But  they  served  an  apprenticeship  to  the  art.  They  passed 
through  a  regular  course  of  instruction  in  schools.  They  sub- 
mitted to  long  and  laborious  discipline.  They  exercised  them- 
selves frequently,  both  before  equals  and  in  the  presence  of  teach- 
ers, who  criticised,  reproved,  rebuked,  excited  emulation,  and 
left  nothing  undone  which  art  and  perseverance  could  accomplish. 
The  greatest  orators  of  antiquity,  so  far  from  being  favored  by 
natural  tendencies,  —  except,  indeed,  in  their  high  intellectual 
endowments, —  had  to  struggle  against  natural  obstacles;  and, 
instead  of  growing  up  spontaneously  to  their  unrivaled  eminence, 
they  forced  themselves  forward  by  the  most  discouraging  arti- 
ficial process. 

Demosthenes  combated  an  impediment  in  speech,  an  ungain- 
liness  of  gesture,  which  at  first  drove  him  from  the  forum  in 
disgrace.  Cicero  failed  at  first,  through  weakness  of  lungs  and 
an  excessive  vehemence  of  manner,  which  wearied  the  hearers 
and  defeated  his  own  purpose.  These  defects  were  conquered 
by  study  and  discipline.  He  exiled  himself  from  home,  and, 
during  his  absence,  in  various  lands,  passed  not  a  day  without  a 
rhetorical  exercise,  seeking  the  masters  who  were  most  severe 
in  criticism,  as  the  surest  means  of  leading  him  to  the  perfection 
at  which  he  aimed. 


False  Courage.— CnjLsmxQ. 

Courage,  considered  in  itself,  or  without  reference  to  its  ori- 
gin and  motives,  and  regarded  in  its  common  manifestations,  is 
not  virtue,  is  not  moral  excellence ;  and  the  disposition  to  exalt 
it  above  the  spirit  of  Christianity  is  one  of  the  most  ruinous  delu- 
sions which  have  been  transmitted  to  us  from  barbarous  times. 
In  most  men  courage  has  its  origin  in  a  happy  organization  of 
the  body.  It  belongs  to  the  nerves  rather  than  to  the  character. 
In  some  it  is  an  instinct  bordering  on  rashness.  In  one  man  it 
springs  from  strong  passions  obscuring  the  idea  of  danger ;  in 
another,  from  the  want  of  imagination,  or  from  the  capacity  of 
bringing  future  evils  near.     The  courage  of  the  unedueated  ma.y 


TRITE  COURAGE.  44] 

often  be  traced  to  stupidity,  to  the  absence  of  thought  and  sensi- 
bility.  Many  are  courageous  from  the  dread  of  the  infamy  ab- 
surdly attached  to  cowardice.  One  terror  expels  another.  A 
bullet  is  less  formidable  than  a  sneer.  To  show  the  moral 
worthlessness  of  mere  courage,  of  contempt  of  bodily  suffering 
and  pain,  one  consideration  is  sufficient.  The  most  abandoned 
have  possessed  it  in  perfection.  The  villain  often  hardens  into 
the  thorough  hero,  if  courage  and  heroism  be  one.  The  more 
complete  his  success  in  searing  conscience  and  defying  God,  the 
more  dauntless  his  daring.  Long-continued  vice  and  exposure 
naturally  generate  contempt  of  life  and  a  reckless  encounter  or 
peril.  Courage,  considered  in  itself,  or  without  reference  to  its 
causes,  is  no  virtue,  and  deserves  no  esteem.  It  is  found  in  the 
best  and  the  worst,  and  is  to  be  judged  according  to  the  qualities 
from  which  it  springs  and  with  which  it  is  conjoined. 


Drue  Courage.—  Chakxwq. 

There  is  a  virtuous,  glorious  courage ;  but  it  happens  to  be 
found  least  in  those  who  are  most  admired  for  bravery.  It  is 
the  courage  of  principle,  which  dares  to  do  right  in  the  face  of 
scorn,  which  puts  to  hazard  reputation,  rank,  the  prospects  of 
advancement,  the  sympathy  of  friends,  the  admiration  of  the 
world,  rather  than  violate  a  conviction  of  duty.  It  is  the  cour- 
age of  benevolence  and  piety,  which  counts  not  life  dear  in  with- 
standing error,  superstition,  vice,  oppression,  injustice,  and  the 
mightiest  foes  of  human  improvement  and  happiness.  It  is 
moral  energy,  that  force  of  will  in  adopting  duty,  over  which 
menace  and  suffering  have  no  power.  It  is  the  courage  of  a 
soul  which  reverences  itself  too  much  to  be  greatly  moved  about 
what  befalls  the  body ;  which  thirsts  so  intensely  for  a  pure  in- 
ward life,  that  it  can  yield  up  the  animal  life  without  fear ;  in 
which  the  idea  of  moral,  spiritual,  celestial  good  has  been  un- 
folded so  brightly  as  to  obscure  all  worldly  interests  ;  which 
aspires  after  immortality,  and  therefore  heeds  little  the  pains  or 
pleasures  of  a  day  ;  which  has  so  concentered  its  whole  power 
and  life  in  the  love  of  godlike  virtue,  that  it  even  finds  a  joy  in 
the  perils  and  Bufferings  by  which  its  loyalty  to  God  and  virtue 
may  be  approved.  This  courage  may  be  called  the  perfection 
of  humanity,  for  it  is  the  exercise,  result,  and  expression  of  the 
highest  attributes  of  our  nature. 


442  ROSS'S   SPEAKER 


Necessity  of  a  State  Law  against  Dueling.  —  Ahok 

The  bill  which  has  been  read,  Mr.  Speaker,  claims  the  serious 
attention  of  this  house.  It  is  one  in  which  every  citizen  is  deeply 
interested.  Do  not,  I  implore  you,  confound  the  sacred  name  of 
honor  with  the  practice  of  dueling —  with  that  ferocious  preju- 
dice which  attaches  a*,  the  virtues  to  the  point  of  the  sword,  and 
is  only  fitted  to  make  bad  men  bold.  In  what  does  this  prejudice 
consist  ?  In  an  opinion  the  most  extravagant  and  barbarous  that 
ever  took  possession  of  the  human  mind  !  —  in  the  opinion  that 
all  the  social  duties  are  supplied  by  courage ;  that  a  man  is  no 
more  a  cheat,  no  more  a  rascal,  no  more  a  calumniator,  if  he 
can  only  fight ;  and  that  steel  and  gunpowder  are  the  true  diag- 
nostics of  innocence  and  worth.  And  so  the  law  of  force  is 
made  the  law  of  right ;  murder,  the  criterion  of  honor.  To 
grant  or  receive  reparation,  one  must  kill  or  be  killed.  All 
offenses  may  be  wiped  out  by  blood.  If  wolves  could  reason, 
would  they  be  governed  by  maxims  more  atrocious  than  these  ? 

But  we  are  told  that  public  opinion: — the  opinion  of  the  com- 
munity in  which  we  live  —  upholds  the  custom.  And,  sir,  if  it 
were  so,  is  there  not  more  courage  in  resisting  than  in  following 
a  false  public  opinion  ?  The  man  with  a  proper  self-respect  is 
little  sensitive  to  the  unmerited  contempt  of  others.  The  smile 
of  his  own  conscience  is  more  prized  by  him  than  all  that  the 
world  can  give  or  take  away.  Is  there  any  guilt  to  be  compared 
with  that  of  a  voluntary  homicide  ?  Could  the  dismal  recollection 
of  blood  so  shed  cease  ever  to  cry  for  vengeance  at  the  bottom 
of  the  heart  ?  The  man  who,  with  real  or  affected  gayety  and 
coolness,  goes  to  a  mortal  encounter  with  a  fellow-being,  is,  in 
my  eyes,  an  object  of  more  horror  than  the  brute  beast  who 
strives  to  tear  in  pieces  one  of  his  kind.  True  courage  is  con- 
stant, immutable,  self-poised.  It  does  not  impel  us,  at  one  mo- 
ment, to  brave  murder  and  death,  and,  the  next,  to  shrink  pu- 
sillanimously  from  an  injurious  public  opinion.  It  accompanies 
the  good  man  every  where  —  to  the  field  of  danger,  in  his  coun- 
try's cause  ;  to  the  social  circle,  to  lift  his  voice  in  behalf  of  truth 
or  of  the  absent ;  to  the  pillow  of  disease,  to  fortify  him  against 
the  trials  of  sickness  and  the  approach  of  death.  Sir,  if  public 
opinion  is  unsound  on  this  subject,  let  us  not  be  participants  in 
the  guilt  of  upholding  a  barbarous  custom.  Let  us  affix  to  it  *be 
brand  of  legislative  rebuke  and  disqualification. 


ON  ALTERING  THE  VIRGINIA  CONSTITUTION        443 


On  altering-  the  Virginia  Constitution. 

John  Randolph, 

Sib,  I  see  no  wisdom  in  making  this  provision  for  future 
changes.  You  must  give  governments  time  to  operate  on  the 
people,  and  give  the  people  time  to  become  gradually  assimilated 
to  their  institutions.  Almost  any  thing  is  better  than  this  state  of 
perpetual  uncertainty.  A  people  may  have  the  best  form  of 
government  that  the  wit  of  man  ever  devised,  and  yet,  from  its 
uncertainty  alone,  may,  in  effect,  live  under  the  worst  govern- 
ment in  the  world.  Sir,  how  often  must  I  repeat,  that  change  is 
not  reform  1  I  am  willing  that  this  new  constitution  shall  stand 
as  long  as  it  is  possible  for  it  to  stand  ;  and  that,  believe  me,  is 
a  very  short  time.  Sir,  it  is  vain  to  deny  it.  They  may  say 
what  they  please  about  the  old  constitution,  —  the  defect  is  not 
there.  It  is  not  in  the  form  of  the  old  edifice,  —  neither  in  the 
design  nor  the  elevation ;  it  is  in  the  material,  —  it  k  in  the  peo- 
ple of  Virginia.  To  my  knowledge,  that  peopie  are  changed 
/rom  what  they  have  been.  The  four  hundred  men  who  went 
out  to  David  were  in  debt.  The  partisans  of  Caesar  were  in 
debt.  The  fellow-laborers  of  Catiline  were  in  debt.  And  1 
defy  you  to  show  me  a  desperately  indebted  people,  any  where, 
who  can  bear  a  regular,  sober  government.  I  throw  the  chal- 
lenge to  all  who  hear  me.  1  say  that  the  character  of  the  good 
old  Virginia  planter  —  the  man  who  owned  from  five  to  twenty 
slaves,  or  less,  who  lived  by  hard  work,  and  who  paid  his  debts 
—  is  passed  away.  A  new  order  of  things  is  come.  The  period 
has  arrived  of  living  by  one's  wits  ;  of  living  by  contracting  debts 
that  one  can  not  pay  ;  and  above  all,  of  living  by  office  hunting. 

Sir,  what  do  we  see?  Bankrupts  —  branded  bankrupts  — 
giving  great  dinners,  sending  their  children  to  the  most  expensive 
schools,  giving  grand  parties,  and  just  as  well  received  as  any 
body  in  society  !  I  say  that  in  such  a  state  of  things,  the  old  con- 
stitution was  too  good  for  them,  —  they  could  not  bear  it.  No 
sir ;  they  could  not  bear  a  freehold  suffrage,  and  a  property 
representation.  1  have  always  endeavored  to  do  the  people  jus- 
tice;  but  I  will  not  flatter  them,  —  I  will  not  pander  to  their 
appetite  for  change.  1  will  do  nothing  to  provide  for  change.  1 
will  not  agree  to  any  rule  of  future  apportionment,  or  to  any 
provision  for  future  changes,  called  amendments  to  the  constitu- 
tion. Those  who  love  change  —  who  delight  in  public  confu- 
sion—  who  wish  to  feed  the  caldron,  and  make  it  bubb'e  — 
may  vote   if  they  please,  for  ffiture  changes.     But  by  what  spell 


444  ROSS'S  SPEAKER.' 

by  what  formula,  are  you  going  to  bind  the  people  to  a.I  futuw 
time  ?  The  days  of  Lycurgus  are  gone  by,  when  ws  could 
swear  the  people  not  to  alter  the  constitution  until  he  should 
return.  You  may  make  what  entries  on  parchment  you  please  : 
give  me  a  constitution  that  will  last  for  half  a  century ;  that  is  all 
I  wish  for.  No  constitution  that  you  can  make  will  last  the  one 
half  of  half  a  century.  Sir,  I  will  stake  any  thing,  snort  of  my 
salvation,  that  those  who  are  malcontent  now  will  be  more  mal- 
content three  years  hence  than  they  are  at  this  day.  I  have  no 
favor  for  this  constitution.  I  shall  vote  against  its  adoption,  and 
I  shall  advise  all  the  people  of  my  district  to  set  their  faces  — 
ay,  and  their  shoulders,  too  —  against  it. 


Lodgings  for  Single   Gentlemen.— Colman. 

Who  has  e'er  been  in  London,  that  overgrown  place, 
Has  seen,  "  Lodgings  to  Let,"  stare  him  full  in  the  face. 
Some  are  good,  and  let  dearly  ;  while  some,  'tis  well  known 
Are  so  dear  and  so  bad  they  are  best  let  alone. 

Will  Waddle,  whose  temper  was  studious  and  lonely, 
Hired  lodgings  that  took  single  gentlemen  only ; 
But  Will  was  so  fat  he  appeared  like  a  tun, 
Or  like  two  single  gentlemen  rolled  into  one. 

He  entered  his  rooms,  and  to  bed  he  retreated ; 
But  all  the  night  long  he  felt  fevered  and  heated ; 
And,  though  heavy  to  weigh  as  a  score  of  fat  sheep, 
He  was  not,  by  any  means,  heavy  to  sleep. 

Next  night  'twas  the  same,  and  the  next,  and  the  next ; 
He  perspired  like  an  ox,  he  was  nervous  and  vexed, 
Week  after  week,  till,  by  weekly  succession, 
His  weakly  condition  was  past  all  expression. 

In  six  months  his  acquaintance  began  much  to  doubt  him ; 
For  his  skin  "  like  a  lady's  loose  gown  "  hung  about  him. 
He  sent  for  a  doctor,  and  cried,  like  a  ninny, 
"I've  lost  many  pounds  —  make  me  well  —  there's  a  guinea." 

The  doctor  looked  wise.     "  A  slow  fever,"  he  said ; 
Prescribed  sudorifics,  and  going  to  bed. 


THE  RICH  MAN   AND  THE  POOR  MAN.  446 

4  Sudorifics  in  bed,"  exclaimed  Will,  "  are  humbugs ; 
I've  enough  of  them  here,  without  paying  for  drugs." 

Will  kicked  out  the  doctor :  but  when  ill  indeed, 
E'en  dismissing  the  doctor  don't  always  succeed ; 
So,  calling  his  host,  he  said,  "  Sir,  do  you  know 
I'm  the  fat  single  gentleman,  six  months  ago  ? 

"  Look  ye,  landlord  ;  I  think,"  argued  Will  with  a  grm, 
"  That  with  honest  intentions  you  first  took  me  in : 
But  from  the  first  night  —  and  to  say  it  I'm  bold  — 
I've  been  so  very  hot,  that  I'm  sure  1  caught  cold." 

Quoth  the  landlord,  "  Till  now  I  ne'er  had  a  dispute  ; 
I've  let  lodgings  ten  years —  I'm  a  baker  to  boot ; 
In  airing  your  sheets,  sir,  my  wife  is  no  sloven ; 
And  your  bed  is  immediately — over  my  oven." 

"  The  oven !  "  says  Will.      Says  the  host,  "  Why  this  passion  ? 
In  that  excellent  bed  died  three  people  of  fashion. 
Why  so  crusty,  good  sir  ?  "  —  "  Odds  !  "  cried  Will  in  a  taking, 
"  Who  would  not  be  crusty,  with  a  half  a  year's  baking  ?  " 

Will  paid  for  his  rooms.     Cried  the  host,  with  a  sneer, 
"  Well,  I  see  you've  been  going  away  half  a  year." 
"Friend,  we  can't  well  agree  —  yet  no  quarrel,"  Will  said ; 
"  But  I'd  rather  not  perish  while  you  make  your  bread." 


The  Rich  Man  and  the  Poor  Man.— Khbiuotim 

So  goes  the  world  ;  if  wealthy,  you  may  call 

This  friend,  that  brother  —  friends  and  brothers  all ; 

Though  you  are  worthless,  witless,  never  mind  it ; 
You  may  have  been  a  stable  boy  —  what  then  ? 
'Tis  wealth,  good  sir,  makes  honorable  men. 

You  seek  respect,  no  doubt,  and  you  will  find  it. 
But  if  you're  poor,  Heaven  help  you!    Though  yo'jr  sir« 
Had  royal  blood  within  him,  and  though  you 
Possess  the  intellect  of  unguis  too, 

'Tis  .ill  in  vuin  ;  the  world  will  ne'er  inquire 
On  such  a  score  :  why  should  it  take  the  pains  ? 
'Tis  easier  to  weigh  purses,  sure,  than  brains. 


446  ROSS'S   SPEAKER. 

I  01  .ce  saw  a  poor  fellow,  keen  and  clever, 
Witty  and  wise  :  he  paid  a  man  a  visit, 

And  no  one  noticed  him,  and  no  one  ever 
Gave  him  a  welcome.     "  Strange,"  cried  I,  "  whence  is  it }  " 
He  walked  on  this  side,  then  on  that, 
He  tried  to  introduce  a  social  chat ; 
Now  here,  now  there,  in  vain  he  tried ; 
Some  formally  and  freezingly  replied, 

And  some 
Said  by  their  silence,  "  Better  stay  at  home." 
A  rich  man  burst  the  door, 
As  Croesus  rich ;  I'm  sure 
He  could  not  pride  himself  upon  his  wit ; 
And  as  for  wisdom,  he  had  none  of  it ; 
He  had  what's  better  —  he  had  wealth. 

What  a  confusion  !     All  stand  up  erect ; 
These  crowd  around  to  ask  him  of  his  health ; 

These  bow  in  honest  duty  and  respect ; 
And  these  arrange  a  sofa  or  a  chair, 
And  these  conduct  him  there. 
"  Allow  me,  sir,  the  honor  ;  "  then  a  bow 
Down  to  the  earth.     Is't  possible  to  show 
Meet  gratitude  for  such  kind  condescension  ? 
The  poor  man  hung  his  head, 
And  to  himself  he  said, 
"  This  is  indeed  beyond  my  comprehension  : " 
Then  looking  round, 
One  friendly  face  he  found, 
And  said,  "  Pray  tell  me,  why  is  wealth  preferred 

To  wisdom  ?  "     "  That's  a  silly  question,  friend," 
Replied  the  other,  "  Have  you  never  heard, 
A  man  may  lend  his  store 
Of  gold  or  silver  ore, 
Bu  wisdom  none  can  borrow,  nor  can  lend  ?  " 


Paddy's  Metamorphosis.— Thomas  moobe. 

About  fifty  years  since,  in  the  days  of  our  daddies, 

That  plan  was  commenced  which  the  wise  now  applaud 

Of  shipping  off  Ireland's  most  turbulent  paddies 
As  good  raw  materials  for  settlers  abroad. 


OTHELLO'S   APOLOGY.  447 

Some  West  Indian  island,  whose  name  I  forget, 
Was  the  region  then  chosen  for  the  scheme  so  romantic  ; 

And  such  the  success  the  first  colony  met, 

That  a  second,  soon  after,  set  sail  o'er  the  Atlantic 

Behold  them  now  safe  at  the  long-looked-for  shore, 

Sailing  in  between  banks  that  the  Shannon  might  greet, 

And  thinking  of  friends,  whom,  but  two  years  before, 
They  had  sorrowed  to  lose,  but  would  soon  again  meet. 

And,  hark  !  from  the  shore  a  glad  welcome  there  came : 
"  Arrah,  Paddy  from  Cork,  is  it  you,  my  swate  boy  ?  " 

While  Pat  stood  astounded  to  hear  his  own  name 
Thus  hailed  by  black  creatures,  who  capered  for  joy. 

u  Can  it  possibly  be  ?  "     Half  amazement,  half  doubt, 
Pat  listens  again ;  rubs  his  eyes  and  looks  steady  ; 

Then  heaves  a  deep  sigh,  and  in  horror  yells  out, 

"  Dear  me  —  only  think  —  black  and  curly  already  ! " 

Deceived  by  that  well-mimicked  brogue  in  his  ears, 
Pat  read  his  own  doom  in  these  wool-headed  figures, 

And  thought,  "  What  a  climate,  in  less  than  two  years, 
To  tur^  a  whole  cargo  of  Pats  into  niggers  !  " 


Othello's  Apology.—  Shampmam. 

Most  potent,  grave,  and  reverend  seigniors, 
My  very  noble  and  approved  good  masters, 
That  I  have  ta'en  away  this  old  man's  daughter 
It  is  most  true  ;  true,  I  have  married  her  ; 
The  very  head  and  front  of  my  offending 
Hath  this  extent,  no  more. 

Rude  am  I  in  speech, 
And  little  blessed  with  the  set  phrase  of  peace ; 
For  since  these  arms  of  mine  had  seven  years'  pith, 
Till  now  some  nine  moons  wasted,  they  have  used 
Their  dearest  action  in  the  tented  field  ; 
And  little  of  this  great  world  can  I  speak 
More  than  pertains  to  feats  of  broil  and  battle ; 
And  therefore  little  shall  I  grace  my  cause 
In  speaking  of  myself.     Yet,  by  your  gracious  patience, 


448  ROSS'S  SPEAKER. 

1  will  a  round,  unvarnished  tale  deliver 

Of  my  whole  course  of  love ;  what  drugs,  what  charm*, 

What  conjuration,  and  what  mighty  magic, 

(For  such  proceeding  I  am  charged  withal,) 

I  won  his  daughter  with. 

Her  father  loved  me ;  oft  invited  me ; 

Still  questioned  me  the  story  of  my  life, 

From  year  to  year ;  the  battles,  sieges,  fortunes 

That  I  have  passed. 

I  ran  it  through,  even  from  my  boyish  days, 

To  the  very  moment  that  he  bade  me  tell  it ; 

Wherein  I  spoke  of  most  disastrous  chances, 

Of  moving  accidents,  by  flood  and  field ; 

Of  hair-breadth  'scapes  in  the  imminent  deadly  breach, 

Of  being  taken  by  the  insolent  foe, 

And  sold  to  slavery  ;  of  my  redemption  thence  ; 

And  with  it,  all  my  travel's  history. 

These  things  to  heai 
Would  Desdemona  seriously  incline  ; 
But  still  the  house  affairs  would  draw  her  thence ; 
Which  ever  as  she  could  with  haste  dispatch, 
She'd  come  again,  and  with  a  greedy  ear 
Devour  up  my  discourse  ;  which  I  observing, 
Took  once  a  pliant  hour,  and  found  good  means 
To  draw  from  her  a  prayer  of  earnest  heart, 
That  I  would  all  my  pilgrimage  dilate, 
Whereof  by  parcels  she  had  something  heard, 
But  not  attentively. 

I  did  consent, 
And  often  did  beguile  her  of  her  tears, 
When  I  did  speak  of  some  distressful  stroke, 
That  my  youth  suffered.     My  story  being  done, 
She  gave  me  for  my  pains  a  world  of  sighs : 
She  said,  In  faith,  'twas  strange,  'twas  passing  strange ; 
'Twas  pitiful,  'twas  wondrous  pitiful ; 
She  wished  she  had  not  heard  it ;  yet  she  wished, 
That  Heaven  had  made  her  such  a  man. 

She  thanked  me 
And  bade  me,  if  I  had  a  friend  that  loved  her, 
I  should  but  teach  him  how  to  tell  my  story, 
And  that  would  woo  her.     On  this  hint  I  spake  : 
She  loved  me  for  the  dangers  I  had  passed ; 
And  I  loved  her  that  she  did  pity  them. 
This  only  is  the  witchcraft  I  have  used. 


COMPETENCE.  449 


The  Toilet. -Ton, 

And  now  unveiled  the  toilet  stands  displayed, 
Each  silver  vase  in  mystic  order  laid  ; 
First,  robed  in  white,  the  nymph  intent  adores, 
With  head  uncovered,  the  cosmetic  powers. 
A  heavenly  image  in  the  glass  appears  ; 
To  that  she  bends,  to  that  her  eye  she  rears ; 
The  inferior  priestess  at  her  altar's  side, 
Trembling,  begins  the  sacred  rites  of  pride. 
Unnumbered  treasures  ope  at  once,  and  here 
The  various  offerings  of  the  world  appear ; 
From  each  she  nicely  culls  with  curious  toil, 
And  decks  the  goddess  with  the  glittering  spoil. 
This  casket  India's  glowing  gems  unlocks, 
And  all  Arabia  breathes  from  yonder  box : 
The  tortoise  here  and  elephant  unite, 
Transformed  to  combs,  the  speckled  and  the  white. 
Here  files  of  pins  extend  their  shining  rows, 
Puffs,  powders,  patches,  Bibles,  billet-doux. 
Now  awful  beauty  puts  on  all  its  arms ; 
The  fair  each  moment  rises  in  her  charms, 
Repairs  her  smiles,  awakens  every  grace, 
And  calls  forth  all  the  wonders  of  her  face  ; 
Sees  by  degrees  a  purer  blush  arise, 
And  keener  lightnings  quicken  in  her  eyes. 
The  busy  sylphs  surround  their  darling  care  ; 
These  set  the  head,  and  those  divide  the  hair ; 
Some  fold  the  sleeve,  whilst  others  plait  the  gown, 
And  Betty's  praised  for  labors  not  her  own. 


Competence. — Swur, 

I've  often  wished  that  I  had  clear, 
For  life,  six  hundred  pounds  a  year, 
A  handsome  house  to  lodge  a  friend, 
A  river  at  my  garden's  end, 
A  terrace  walk,  and  half  a  rood 
Of  land  set  out  to  plant  a  wood. 
Well,  now  I  have  ull  this  and  more, 
I  ask  not  to  increase  my  store ; 
29 


460  ROSS'S   SPEAKER. 

But  here  a  grievance  seems  to  lie : 

All  this  is  mine  but  till  I  die ; 

I  can't  but  think  'twould  sound  more  clever 

To  me  and  to  my  heirs  forever, 

If  I  ne'er  got  or  lost  a  groat 

By  any  trick  or  any  fault ; 

And  if  I  pray  for  reason's  rules, 

And  not,  like  forty  other  fools, 

As  thus,  "  Vouchsafe,  0  gracious  Maker, 

To  grant  me  this  and  t'other  acre ; 

Or,  if  it  be  thy  will  and  pleasure, 

Direct  my  plow  to  find  a  treasure  !  " 

But  only  what  my  station  fits, 

And  to  be  kept  in  my  right  wits ; 

Preserve,  almighty  Providence, 

Just  what  you  gave  me,  competence, 

And  let  me  in  these  shades  compose 

Something  in  verse  as  true  as  prose. 


Lord  Ullirts  Daughter.  —  Campmxx 

A  chieftain,  to  the  Highlands  bound, 
Cries,  "  Boatman,  do  not  tarry, 

And  Pll  give  thee  a  silver  pound 
To  row  us  o'er  the  ferry." 

"  Now,  who  be  ye  would  cross  Loch  Gyle, 
This  dark  and  stormy  water  ?  " 

"  O,  I'm  the  chief  of  Ulva's  Isle, 
And  this,  Lord  Ullin's  daughter. 

"  And  fast  before  her  father's  men 
Three  days  we've  fled  together ; 

For  should  he  find  us  in  the  glen, 
My  blood  would  stain  the  heather. 

"  His  horsemen  hard  behind  us  ride ; 

Should  they  our  steps  discover, 
Then  who  will  cheer  my  bonny  bride, 

When  they  have  slain  her  lover  ?  " 

Out  spoke  the  hardy  Highland  wight, 
"  I'll  go,  my  chief,  I'm  ready  : 


LORD   ULLIN'S   DAUGHTER.  45] 

It  is  not  for  your  silver  bright, 
But  for  )rour  winsome  lady. 

"  And  by  my  word,  the  bonny  bird 

In  danger  shall  not  tarry ; 
So,  though  the  waves  are  raging  white, 

I'll  row  vou  o'er  the  ferry." 

By  this,  the  storm  grew  loud  apace, 

The  water  wraith  was  shrieking  ; 
And  in  the  scowl  of  heaven  each  face 

Grew  dark  as  they  were  speaking. 

But  still,  as  wilder  grew  the  wind, 

And  as  the  night  grew  drearer, 
Adown  the  glen  rode  armed  men ; 

Their  trampling  sounded  nearer. 

"  O,  haste  thee,  haste  !  "  the  lady  cries, 
"  Though  tempests  round  us  gather ; 

I'll  meet  the  raging  of  the  skies, 
But  not  an  angry  father." 

The  boat  has  left  the  stormy  land, 

A  stormy  sea  before  her : 
When,  O,  too  strong  for  human  hand 

The  tempest  gathered  o'er  her. 

And  still  they  rowed  amid  the  ro«r 

Of  waters  fast  prevailing  : 
Lord  Ullin  reached  that  fatal  shore  ; 

His  wrath  was  changed  to  wailing. 

For  sore  dismayed,  through  storm  and  shade 

His  child  he  did  discover  ; 
One  lovely  hand  she  stretched  for  aid, 

And  one  was  round  her  lover. 

14  Come  back  !  come  back !  "  he  cried  in  grief 

u  Across  this  stormy  water : 
And  I'll  forgive  your  Highland  chief: 
My  daughter  !  O,  my  daughter  1 " 

Twas  vain  :  the  loud  waves  lashed  the  shore, 

Return  or  aid  preventing  : 
The  waters  wild  went  o'er  his  child, 

And  he  was  left  lamenting. 


452  ROSS'S   SPEAKER, 


Retrospect. — Cowtbb. 

Such  comprehensive  views  the  spirit  takes, 

That  in  a  few  short  moments  I  retrace, 

As  in  a  map  the  voyager  his  course, 

The  windings  of  my  way  through  many  yearc. 

Short  as  in  retrospect  the  journey  seems, 

It  seemed  not  always  short.     The  rugged  path 

And  prospect,  oft  so  dreary  and  forlorn, 

Moved  many  a  sigh  at  its  disheartening  length. 

Yet,  feeling  present  evils,  while  the  past 

Faintly  impress  the  mind,  or  not  at  all, 

How  readily  we  wish  time  spent  revoked, 

That  we  might  try  the  ground  again,  where  once 

Through  inexperience,  as  we  now  perceive, 

We  missed  that  happiness  we  might  have  found. 

Some  friend  is  gone,  perhaps  his  son's  best  friend , 

A  father,  whose  authority,  in  show 

When  most  severe,  and  mustering  all  its  force, 

Was  but  the  graver  countenance  of  love  ; 

Whose  favor,  like  the  clouds  of  spring,  might  lower 

And  utter,  now  and  then,  an  awful  voice, 

But  had  a  blessing  in  its  darkest  frown, 

Threatening  at  once  and  nourishing  the  plant. 

We  loved,  but  not  enough,  the  gentle  hand 

That  reared  us.     At  a  thoughtless  age,  allured 

By  every  gilded  folly,  we  renounced 

His  sheltering  side,  and  wilfully  forewent 

That  converse,  which  we  now  in  vain  regret. 

How  gladly  would  the  man  recall  to  life 

The  boy's  neglected  sire  !  a  mother,  too, 

That  softer  friend,  perhaps  more  gladly  still, 

Might  he  demand  them  at  the  gates  of  death. 

Sorrow  has,  since  they  went,  subdued  and  tamed 

The  playful  humor.     He  could  now  endure, 

Himself  grown  sober  in  the  vale  of  tears, 

And  feel  a  parent's  presence  no  restraint. 

But  not  to  understand  a  treasure's  worth 

Till  time  has  stolen  away  the  slighted  good, 

Is  cause  of  half  the  poverty  we  feel, 

And  makes  the  world  the  wilderness  it  is. 


POETRY   OF  THE  BIBLE.  453 


Poetry  of  the  Bible.—  Da.  Branca. 

One  of  the  most  eminent  critics  has  said,  that  "  devotional 
poetry  can  not  please."  If  it  be  so,  then  has  the  Bible  carried 
the  dominion  of  poetry  into  regions  that  are  inaccessible  to  world- 
ly ambition.  It  has  crossed  the  enchanted  circle,  and,  by  the 
beauty,  boldness,  and  originality  of  its  conceptions,  has  given  to 
devotional  poetry  a  glow,  a  richness,  a  tenderness,  in  vain  sought 
for  in  Shakspeare  or  Cowper,  in  Scott  or  in  Byron. 

Where  is  there  poetry  that  can  be  compared  with  the  Song  of 
Moses  after  the  destruction  of  Pharaoh ;  with  the  Psalms  of 
David  ;  with  the  Song  of  Solomon ;  and  with  the  Prophecies  of 
Isaiah  ?  Where  is  there  an  elegiac  ode  to  be  compared  with  the 
Song  of  David  upon  the  death  of  Saul  and  Jonathan,  or  the  Lam- 
entations of  Jeremiah  ?  Where,  in  ancient  or  modern  poetry,  is 
there  a  passage  like  this  ?  "  In  thoughts  from  the  visions  of  the 
night,  when  deep  sleep  falleth  on  man,  fear  came  upon  me,  and 
trembling,  which  made  all  my  bones  to  shake.  Then  a  spirit 
passed  before  my  face  ;  the  hair  of  my  flesh  stood  up.  It  stood 
still,  but  I  could  not  discern  the  form  thereof.  An  image  was 
before  mine  eyes.  There  was  silence.  And  I  heard  a  voice, 
saying,  Shall  mortal  man  be  more  just  than  God  ?  shall  a  man 
be  more  pure  than  his  Maker  ?  Behold,  he  putteth  no  trust  in 
his  servants,  and  his  angels  he  chargeth  with  folly.  How  much 
less  in  them  that  dwell  in  houses  of  clay,  whose  foundation  is  as 
the  dust,  and  who  are  crushed  before  the  moth  !  " 

Men  who  have  felt  the  power  of  poetiy,  when  they  have 
marked  the  "  deep- working  passion  of  Dante,"  and  observed  the 
elevation  of  Milton,  as  he  "  combined  image  with  image,  in  lofty 
gradations,"  have  thought  that  they  discovered  the  indebtedness 
of  these  writers  to  the  poetry  of  the  Old  Testament.  But  how 
much  more  sublime  is  Isaiah  than  Milton  !  How  much  more  en- 
kindling than  Dante*  is  David  !  How  much  more  picturesque 
than  Homer  is  Solomon  or  Job !  Like  the  rapid  and  glowing 
argumentations  of  Paul,  the  poetic  parts  of  the  Bible  may  bo 
read  a  thousand  times,  and  they  have  all  the  freshness  and  glow 
of  the  first  perusal. 

Where,  in  the  compass  of  human  language,  is  there  a  para- 
graph, which,  for  boldness  and  variety  of  metaphor,  delicacy  and 
majesty  of  thought,  strength  and  invention,  elegance  and  refine- 
ment, equals  the  passage  in  which  "  God  answers  Job  out  of  the 
whirlwind  "  ?  What  merely  human  imagination,  in  the  natural 
progress  of  a  single  discourse,  and,  apparently,  without  effort 

u 


154  ROSS'S   SPEAKER. 

ever  thus  went  down  to  "  the  foundations  of  the  earth ; "  stood  a 
"  the  doors  of  the  ocean ; "  visited  "  tlie  place  where  the  day- 
spring  from  on  high  takes  hold  of  the  uttermost  parts  of  the 
earth ; "  entered  into  "  the  treasures  of  the  snow  and  the  hail ; " 
traced  "  the  path  of  the  thunderbolt ; "  and  penetrating  the  re- 
tired chambers  of  nature,  demanded,  "  Hath  the  rain  a  father  ? 
or  who  hath  begotten  the  drops  of  the  dew  ?  "  And  how  bold 
its  flights,  how  inexpressibly  striking  and  beautiful  its  antitheses, 
when,  from  the  warm  and  sweet  Pleiades,  it  wanders  to  the  sterner 
Orion  ;  and,  in  its  rapid  course,  hears  the  "  young  lions  crying 
unto  God  for  lack  of  meat ; "  sees  the  war  horse  pawing  in  the 
valley  ;  descries  the  eagle  on  the  crag  of  the  rock  ;  and,  in  all 
that  is  vast  and  minute,  dreadful  and  beautiful,  discovers  and  pro- 
claims the  glory  of  Him  who  is  "  excellent  in  counsel  and 
wonderful  in  working"! 


The  Same,  concluded. 

The  style  of  Hebrew  poetry  is  every  where  forcible  and 
figurative  beyond  example.  The  Book  of  Job  stands  not  alone 
in  this  sententious,  spirited,  and  energetic  form  and  manner.  It 
prevails  throughout  the  poetic  parts  of  the  Scriptures ;  and  they 
stand,  confessedly,  the  most  eminent  examples  to  be  found  of  the 
truly  sublime  and  beautiful.  I  confess  I  have  not  much  of  the 
spirit  of  poetry.  It  is  a  fire  that  is  enkindled  at  the  living  lamp 
of  nature,  and  glows  only  on  a  few  favored  altars.  And  yet  I 
can  not  but  love  the  poetic  associations  of  the  Bible.  Now,  they 
are  sublime  and  beautiful,  like  the  mountain  torrent,  swollen  and 
impetuous  by  the  sudden  bursting  of  the  cloud  ;  now,  they  are 
grand  and  awful,  like  the  stormy  Galilee  when  the  tempest  beat 
upon  the  fearful  disciples ;  again,  they  are  placid  as  that  calm 
lake,  when  the  Savior's  feet  have  touched  its  waters,  and  stillei 
them  into  peace. 

There  is  also  a  sublimity,  an  invention,  in  the  imagery  of 
the  Bible,  that  is  found  in  no  other  book.  In  the  Bible  you  have 
allegory,  apologue,  parable,  and  enigma,  all  clearly  intelligible, 
and  enforcing  truth  with  a  strong  and  indelible  impression.  You 
have  significant  actions,  uttering  volumes  of  instruction  ;  as  when 
«  Jesus  called  a  little  child,  and  set  him  in  the  midst  of  his  disci- 
ples, and  said,  Except  ye  be  converted,  and  become  as  little 
children,  ye  shall  not  enter  into  the  kingdom  of  heaven ; "  as 
when  he  cursed  the  barren  fig  tree ;  as  when  he  "  washed  hi» 


SONG   OF  MOSES.  455 

disciples'  feet."  And  where  is  there  a  comparison  ike  this? 
"And  the  heavens  departed  as  a  scroll,  when  it  is  rolled  togeth- 
er." Where  is  there  a  description  like  this  ?  "  And  I  saw  an 
angel  standing  in  the  sun,  and  he  cried  with  a  loud  voice,  saying 
to  all  the  fowls  that  fly  in  the  midst  of  heaven,  Come  and  gather 
yourselves  together  unto  the  supper  of  the  great  God."  Or 
where  is  there  a  sentence  like  the  following  ?  "  And  I  saw  a 
great  white  throne,  and  him  that  sat  on  it,  from  whose  face  the 
earth  and  the  heavens  fled  away,  and  there  was  found  no  place 
for  them." 

English  literature  is  no  common  debtor  to  the  Bible.  In 
what  department  of  English  literature  may  not  the  difference  be 
discovered  between  the  spirit  and  sentiments  of  Christian  writers 
and  those  who  have  drawn  all  their  materials  of  thought  and  of 
ornament  from  pagan  writers  ?  We  find  a  proof  of  the  superi- 
ority of  Christian  principles  even  in  those  works  of  imagination 
which  are  deemed  scarcely  susceptible  of  influence  from  religion. 
The  common  romance  and  the  novel,  with  all  their  fooleries  and 
ravings,  would  be  more  contemptible  than  they  are,  did  they  not, 
sometimes,  undesignedly  catch  a  conception,  or  adorn  a  character 
from  the  rich  treasury  of  revelation.  And  the  more  splendid 
fictions  of  the  poet  derive  their  highest  charm  from  the  evangel- 
ical philanthropy,  tenderness,  and  sublimity  that  invest  them. 
But  for  the  Bible,  Homer  and  Milton  might  have  stood  upon  the 
same  shelf,  equal  in  morality,  as  they  are  competitors  for  renown  ; 
Young  had  been  ranked  with  Juvenal ;  and  Cowper  had  united 
with  Horace  and  with  Ovid  to  swell  the  tide  of  voluptuousness. 


Song  of  Moses  after  the  Passage  of  the  Red  Sea. 

Fifteenth  Chapter  op  Exodus. 

I  will  sing  unto  the  Lord,  for  he  hath  triumphed  gloriously ; 

The  horse  and  his  rider  hath  he  whelmed  in  the  sea. 

Mv  praise  and  my  song  is  Jehovah, 

And  ho  is  become  my  salvation : 

He  is  my  God,  and  I  will  praise  him  ; 

My  fathers'  God,  and  I  will  exalt  him. 

Jehovah  is  a  man  of  war  :  Jehovah  is  his  name. 

Tho  chariots  of  Pharaoh  and   his  hosts  hath  he  cast  into  the 

And  his  choicest  leaders  into  the  Red  Sea. 

The  floods  have  covered  them;  they  went  down, 


456  ROSS'S  Sl'EAKER. 

Into  the  abyss  they  went  down  as  a  stone. 

Thy  right  hand,  O  Jehovah,  hath  made  itself  glorious  in  power . 
Thy  right  hand,  O  Jehovah,  hath  dashed  in  pieces  the  enemy ; 
And  in  the  strength  of  thy  majesty,  thou  hast  destroyed  thine 

adversaries. 
Thou  didst  let  loose  thy  wrath :  it  consumed  them  like  stubble. 

With  the  blast  of  thy  nostrils  the  waters  were  heaped  together : 
The  flowing  waters  stood  upright  as  a  heap ; 
The  floods  were  congealed  in  the  heart  of  the  sea. 
The  enemy  said,  "  I  will  pursue,  I  will  overtake ; 
I  will  divide  the  spoil ;  my  soul  shall  be  satisfied  ; 
I  will  draw  my  sword,  my  hand  shall  destroy  them." 
Thou  didst  blow  with  thy  breath,  the  sea  covered  them  : 
They  sank  as  lead  in  the  mighty  waters. 

Who  is  like  unto  thee  among  the  gods,  O  Jehovah ! 

Who  is  like  unto  thee,  making  thyself  glorious  in  holiness, 

Fearful  in  praises,  executing  wonders ! 

Thou  didst  stretch  out  thy  right  hand,  the  earth  swallowed  them 

Thou  hast  led  forth,  in  thy  mercy,  the  people  whom  thou  hast 

redeemed ; 
Thou  hast  guided  them  in  thy  strength  to  the  habitation  of  thy 

holiness. 
The  people  shall  hear  and  be  disquieted  : 
Terror  shall  seize  the  inhabitants  of  Philistia. 
Then  the  nobles  of  Edom  shall  be  confounded : 
The  mighty  ones  of  Moab,  trembling,  shall  take  hold  upon  them : 
All  the  inhabitants  of  Canaan  shall  melt  away : 
Terror  and  perplexity  shall  fall  upon  them : 
Because  of  the  greatness  of  thine  arm,  they  shall  be  still  as  a 

stone, 
Till  thy  people  pass  over,  O  Jehovah, 
Till  the  people  pass  over  whom  thou  hast  redeemed. 
Thou  shalt  bring  them  in,  and  plant  them  in  the  mountains  of 

thine  inheritance, 
The   place    for   thy   dwelling   which    thou   hast   prepared,   O 

Jehovah, 
The  sanctuary,  O  Lord,  which  thy  hands  have  established, 
'ehovah  shall  reign  forever  and  ever. 


THE   CLOSING  YEAR.  457 


The  Closing  Year.  —  g.  d.  pbbntigb. 

Tis  midnight's  holy  hour,  and  silence  now 

Is  brooding,  like  a  gentle  spirit,  o'er 

The  still  and  pulseless  world.     Hark !  on  the  winds 

The  bell's  deep  tones  are  swelling  ;  'tis  the  knell 

Of  the  departed  year.     No  funeral  train 

Is  sweeping  past ;  yet,  on  the  stream  and  wood, 

With  melancholy  light,  the  moonbeams  rest, 

Like  a  pale,  spotless  shroud  ;  the  air  is  stirred 

As  by  a  mourner's  sigh  ;  and  on  yon  cloud, 

That  floats  so  still  and  placidly  through  Heaven, 

The  spirits  of  the  Seasons  seem  to  stand, — 

Young  Spring,  bright  Summer,  Autumn's  solemn  form, 

And  Winter,  with  his  aged  locks,  —  and  breathe 

In  mournful  cadences,  that  come  abroad 

Like  the  far  wind  harp's  wild,  touching  wail, 

A  melancholy  dirge  o'er  the  dead  year, 

Gone  from  the  earth  forever. 

'Tis  a  time 
For  memory  and  for  tears.     Within  the  deep, 
Still  chambers  of  the  heart,  a  specter  dim, 
Whose  tones  are  like  the  wizard  voice  of  Time 
Heard  from  the  tomb  of  ages,  points  its  cold 
And  solemn  finger  to  the  beautiful 
And  holy  visions  that  have  passed  away, 
And  left  no  shadow  of  their  loveliness 
On  the  dead  waste  of  life.     That  specter  lifts 
The  coffin  lid  of  Hope,  and  Joy,  and  Love, 
And  bending  mournfully  above  the  pale, 
Sweet  forms  that  slumber  there,  scatters  dead  flower* 
O'er  what  has  passed  to  nothingness. 

The  year 

Has  gone,  and  with  it  many  a  glorious  throng 
Of  happy  dreams.     Its  mark  is  on  each  brow, 
Its  shadow  in  each  heart.     In  its  swift  course 
It  waved  its  scepter  o'er  the  beautiful, 
And  they  are  not.      It  laid  its  pallid  hand 
Upon  the  strong  man  ;  and  the  haughty  form 
Is  fallen,  and  the  flashing  eye  is  dim. 


458  ROSS'S  SPEAKER. 

It  trod  the  hall  of  revelry,  where  thronged 
The  bright  and  joyous  ;  and  the  tearful  wail 
Of  stricken  ones  is  heard,  where  erst  the  song 
And  reckless  shout  resounded.     It  passed  o'er 
The  battle  plain,  where  sword,  and  spear,  and  shield 
Flashed  in  the  light  of  midday  ;  and  the  strength 
Of  serried  hosts  is  shivered,  and  the  grass, 
Green  from  the  soil  of  carnage,  waves  above 
The  crushed  and  moldering  skeleton.     It  came, 
And  faded  like  a  wreath  of  mist  at  eve  ; 
Yet,  ere  it  melted  in  the  viewless  air, 
It  heralded  its  millions  to  their  home 
In  the  dim  land  of  dreams. 

Remorseless  Time  I 
Fierce  spirit  of  the  glass  and  scythe  !     What  power 
Can  stay  him  in  his  silent  course,  or  melt 
His  iron  heart  to  pity.     On,  still  on, 
He  presses,  and  forever.     The  proud  bird, 
The  condor  of  the  Andes,  that  can  soar 
Through  heaven's  unfathomable  depths,  or  brave 
The  fury  of  the  northern  hurricane, 
And  bathe  his  plumage  in  the  thunder's  home, 
Furls  his  broad  wing  at  nightfall,  and  sinks  down 
To  rest  upon  his  mountain  crag  ;  but  Time 
Knows  not  the  weight  of  sleep  or  weariness, 
And  night's  deep  darkness  has  no  chain  to  bind 
His  rushing  pinion. 

Revolutions  sweep 
O'er  earth,  like  troubled  visions  o'er  the  breast 
Of  dreaming  sorrow  ;  cities  rise  and  sink 
Like  bubbles  on  the  water  ;  fiery  isles 
Spring  blazing  from  the  ocean,  and  go  back 
To  their  mysterious  caverns  ;  mountains  rear 
To  heaven  their  bold  and  blackened  cliffs,  and  bow 
Their  tall  heads  to  the  plain  ;  and  empires  rise, 
Gathering  the  strength  of  hoary  centuries, 
And  rush  down,  like  the  Alpine  avalanche, 
Startling  the  nations  ;  and  the  very  stars, 
Yon  bright  and  glorious  blazonry  of  God, 
Glitter  a  while  in  their  eternal  depths, 
And,  like  the  Pleiad,  loveliest  of  their  train, 


THE   LAST   MAN  459 

Shoot  from  their  glorious  spheres,  and  pass  away 
To  darkle  in  the  trackless  void  ;  yet  Time, 
Time,  the  tomb  builder,  holds  his  fierce  career. 
Dark,  stern,  all  pitiless,  and  pauses  not 
Annd  the  mighty  wrecks  that  strew  his  path, 
To  sit  and  muse,  like  other  conquerors, 
Up^n  the  fearful  ruin  he  had  wrought. 


The  Last  Man.  —  Campbbll. 

All  worldly  shapes  shall  melt  in  gloom, 

The  sun  himself  must  die, 
Before  the  mortal  shall  assume 

Its  immortality. 
I  saw  a  vision  in  my  sleep 
That  gave  my  spirit  strength  to  sweep 

Adown  the  gulf  of  time. 
I  saw  the  last  of  human  mold 
That  shall  creation's  death  behold, 

As  Adam  saw  her  prime. 

The  sun's  eye  had  a  sickly  glare, 

The  earth  with  age  was  wan  ; 
The  skeletons  of  nations  were 

Around  that  lonely  man. 
Some  had  expired  in  fight ;  the  brands 
Still  rusted  in  their  bony  hands  ; 

In  plague  and  famine  some. 
Earth's  cities  had  no  sound  nor  tread, 
And  ships  were  drifting  with  the  dead 

To  shores  where  all  was  dumb. 

Yet,  prophet-like,  that  lone  one  stood, 

With  dauntless  words  and  high, 
That  shook  the  sear  leaves  from  tho  wood 

As  if  a  storm  passed  by  ; 
Saying,  M  We  are  twins  in  death,  proud  sun 
Thy  face  is  cold,  thy  race  is  run  ; 

'Tis  mercy  bids  thee  go. 
For  thou,  ten  thousand  thousand  years, 
Hast  seen  the  tide  of  human  tears 

That  shall  no  longer  flow. 


460  ROSS'S    SPEAKER. 

"  What  though  beneath  thee  man  put  forth 

His  pomp,  his  pride,  his  skill, 
And  arts  that  made  fire,  flood,  and  earth 

The  vassals  of  his  will ; 
Yet  mourn  I  not  thy  parted  sway, 
Thou  dim,  discrowned  king  of  day  ; 

For  all  these  trophied  arts 
And  triumphs,  that  beneath  thee  sprang, 
Healed  not  a  passion  or  a  pang 

Entailed  on  human  hearts. 

"  Go,  let  oblivion's  curtain  fall 

Upon  the  stage  of  men  ; 
Nor,  with  thy  rising  beams,  recall 

Life's  tragedy  again. 
Its  piteous  pageants  bring  not  back, 
Nor  waken  flesh  upon  the  rack 

Of  pain  anew  to  writhe, 
Stretched  in  disease's  shapes  abhorred, 
Or  mown  in  battle  by  the  sword, 

Like  grass  beneath  the  scythe. 

"  Even  I  am  weary  in  yon  skies 

To  watch  thy  fading  fire  ; 
Test  of  all  sumless  agonies, 

Behold  not  me  expire. 
My  lips,  that  speak  thy  dirge  of  death, 
Their  rounded  gasp  and  gurling  breath 

To  see  thou  shalt  not  boast. 
The  eclipse  of  nature  spreads  my  pall, 
The  majesty  of  darkness  shall 

Receive  my  parting  ghost. 

"  This  spirit  shall  return  to  Him 

That  gave  its  heavenly  spark  ; 
Yet  think  not,  sun,  it  shall  be  dim 

When  thou  thyself  art  dark. 
No  !  it  shall  live  again,  and  shine 
In  bliss  unknown  to  beams  of  thine, 

By  Him  recalled  to  breath 
Who  captive  led  captivity, 
Who  robbed  the  grave  of  victory, 

And  took  the  sting  from  death. 


COLUMBIA,  REMEMBER  THY  HEROES.      4()1 

"  Go,  sun,  while  mercy  holds  me  up 

On  nature's  awful  waste, 
To  drink  this  last  and  bitter  cup 

Of  grief  that  man  shall  taste  ; 
Go,  tell  the  night,  that  hides  thy  face, 
Thou  saw'st  the  last  of  Adam's  race, 

On  earth's  sepulchral  clod, 
The  darkening  universe  defy 
To  quench  his  immortality, 

Or  shake  his  trust  in  God." 


Columbia,  remember  thy  Heroes.  —James  g  Clahe 

Columbia,  remember  thy  heroes  of  old, 

The  pride  of  me  world's  brightest  story  ; 
Forget  not  the  time  when  the  tombstone  was  rolled 

From  the  sepulchered  morn  of  thy  glory. 
Ah,  then,  in  his  grandeur,  thy  Washington  rose, 

When  the  last  hope  of  freedom  seemed  faded  ; 
And  the  legions  of  liberty  gave  to  their  foes 

A  grave  in  the  soil  they  invaded. 

And  nations  that  slumbered  in  darkness  and  crime 

Awoke  with  a  wondering  devotion, 
To  see  thee  burst  forth  from  the  shadows  of  time, 

Like  the  sun  from  the  mist  of  the  ocean. 
The  wilderness  sang  in  the  beams  of  thy  worth, 

And  peace  like  a  diadem  crowned  thee, 
When  discord  and  ruin  were  rocking  the  earth, 

And  kingdoms  were  reeling  around  thee. 

And  now,  in  the  power  of  beauty  and  youth, 

A  beacon  to  wanderers  benighted, 
Shall  tyranny  witness  a  stain  on  thy  truth, 

And  scoff  at  thy  purity  blighted  ? 
Flow  long  must  the  craft  of  the  felon  and  knave 

Pollute  what  thy  fathers  defended  ? 
How  long,  at  thy  shrines,  must  the  prayers  of  the  brave 

With  the  creed  of  the  bigot  be  blended  ? 

Columbia,  remember  thy  heroes  of  yore, 
The  pride  of  the  world's  brighter  glory  ; 


462  ROSS'S    SPEAKER. 

Forget  not  the  time  when  they  fell  on  thy  shore, 
In  the  wild,  crimson  morn  of  thy  glory. 

Though  shrouded  in  darkness  their  bodies  repose, 
Let  their  truth  to  thy  children  be  given  ; 

As  the  day  star,  when  lost  in  the  dark  billow,  throws 
Its  light  o'er  the  millions  of  even. 


Washington  in  Retirement.  -Spabks. 


"e> 


No  part  of  Washington's  career  commands  more  admiration 
than  his  private  life,  after  he  had  retired  from  the  presidency  of 
the  United  States.  Having  served  his  country  as  a  soldier  and 
a  chief  magistrate,  he  had  yet  something  to  do  —  to  set  a  great 
and  noble  example  in  the  surrender  of  power  and  personal 
ambition. 

The  following  passages  will  show,  that  in  this,  as  in  every 
thing  else,  he  seems  to  be  superior  to  almost  all  other  men. 
Being  established  again  at  Mount  Vernon,  and  freed  from  public 
toils  and  cares,  Washington  returned  to  the  same  habits  of  life 
and  the  same  pursuits  which  he  had  always  practiced  at  that 
place. 

In  writing  to  a  friend,  a  few  weeks  after  his  return,  he  said 
that  he  began  his  daily  course  with  the  rising  of  the  sun,  and  first 
made  preparations  for  the  business  of  the  day.  "  By  the  time  I 
have  accomplished  these  matters,"  he  adds,  "  breakfast  is  ready. 
This  being  over,  I  mount  my  horse  and  ride  around  my  farms, 
which  employs  me  until  it  is  time  to  dress  for  dinner,  at  which  1 
rarely  miss  seeing  strange  faces,  come,  as  they  say,  out  of 
respect  for  me. 

"  The  usual  time  of  sitting  at  table,  a  walk,  and  tea,  bring 
me  within  the  dawn  of  candle  light ;  previous  to  which,  if  not  pre- 
vented  by  company,  I  resolve,  that  as  soon  as  the  glimmering 
taper  supplies  the  place  of  the  great  luminary,  I  will  retire  to  my 
writing  table,  and  acknowledge  the  letters  I  have  received. 
Having  given  you  this  history  of  a  day,  it  will  serve  for  a  year." 
And  in  this  manner  a  year  passed  away,  and  with  no  other 
variety  than  that  of  the  change  of  visiters,  who  came  from  ali 
parts  to  pay  their  respects  or  gratify  their  curiosity.  The 
feelings  of  Washington,  on  being  relieved  from  the  solicitude  and 
burdens  of  office,  were  forcibly  expressed  in  letters  to  his  friends. 
"  At  length,"  said  he,  in  writing  to  Lafayette.  *fc  I  am  become 
b.  private  citizen,  on  the  banks  of  the  Potomac ;  and,  under  the 


THE   GRAVE   OF   WASHINGTON.  463 

shadow  of  my  own  vine  and  fig  tree,  free  from  the  bustle  of  i 
camp  and  the  busy  scenes  of  public  life,  I  am  solacing  myself 
with  those  tranquil  enjoyments,  of  which  the  soldier,  who  is  ever 
in  pursuit  of  fame,  the  statesman,  whose  watchful  days  and  sleep. 
?*?ss  nights  are  spent  in  devising  schemes  to  promote  the  welfare 
of  his  own,  perhaps  the  ruin  of  other  countries,  —  as  if  this  globe 
vas  insufficient  for  us  all,  —  and  the  courtier,  who  is  always 
watching  the  countenance  of  his  prince,  in  hopes  of  catching  a 
gracious  smile,  can  have  very  little  conception. 

"  I  have  not  only  retired  from  all  public  employments,  but  I 
«m  retiring  within  myself,  and  shall  be  able  to  view  the  solitary 
/alk,  and  tread  the  paths  of  private  life,  with  heartfelt  satis- 
.action.  Envious  of  none,  I  am  determined  to  be  pleased  with 
all ;  and  this,  my  dear  friend,  being  the  order  of  my  march,  I 
will  move  gently  down  the  stream  of  life,  until  I  sleep  with  my 
fathers." 


The  Grave  of  Washington.  —  albbbt  Pi«. 

Distubb  not  his  slumber ;  let  Washington  sleep 
'Neath  the  boughs  of  the  willow  that  over  him  weep  , 
His  arm  is  unnerved,  but  his  deeds  remain  bright 
As  the  stars  in  the  dark  vaulted  heaven  at  night. 

0,  wake  not  the  hero  !  his  battles  are  o'er  ; 
Let  him  rest  undisturbed  on  Potomac's  fair  shore ; 
On  the  river's  green  border  as  flowery  dressed, 
With  the  hearts  he  loved  fondly,  let  Washington  rest. 

Awake  not  his  slumbers  ;  tread  lightly  around  ; 
'Tis  the  grave  of  a  freeman,  'tis  liberty's  mound ; 
The  name  is  immortal ;  our  freedom  is  won  ; 
Brave  sire  of  Columbia,  our  own  Washington  ! 

O,  wake  not  the  hero  !  his  battles  are  o'er ; 
Let  him  rest,  calmly  rest,  on  his  dear  native  shore ; 
While  the  stars  and  the  stripes  of  our  country  shall  wave 
O'er  the  land  that  can  boast  of  a  Washington's  grave. 


4fi4  ROSS'S   SPEAKER 


Daniel  Webster.  —  o.  w.  Holmm. 

No  gloom  that  stately  shape  can  hide, 
No  change  uncrown  its  brow  ;  behold  f 

Dark,  calm,  large-fronted,  lightning-eyed, 
Earth  has  no  double  from  its  mould. 

Ere  from  the  field  by  valor  won 
The  battle  smoke  had  rolled  away, 

And  bared  the  blood-red  setting  sun, 
His  eyes  were  opened  on  the  day. 

His  .and  was  but  a  shelving  strip 

Black  with  the  strife  ihat  made  it  free  ; 

He  lived  to  see  its  banners  dip 
Their  fringes  in  the  western  sea. 

The  boundless  prairies  learned  his  name, 
His  words  the  mountain  echoes  knew, 

The  northern  breezes  swept  his  fame 
From  icy  lake  to  warm  bayou. 

In  toil  he  lived,  in  peace  he  died, 
When  life's  full  cycle  was  complete, 

Put  off  his  robes  of  power  and  pride, 
And  laid  them  at  his  Maker's  feet 

His  rest  is  by  the  storm-swept  waves, 
Whom  life's  wild  tempests  roughly  tried, 

Whose  heart  was  like  the  streaming  cave 
Of  oceans  throbbing  at  his  side. 

Death's  cold  white  hand  is  like  the  snow 
Laid  softly  on  the  furrowed  hill ; 

It  hides  the  broken  seams  below, 
And  leaves  its  glories  brighter  still. 

In  vain  the  envious  tongue  upbraids  , 
His  name  a  nation's  heart  shall  keep, 

Till  morning's  latest  sunlight  fades 
On  the  blue  tablet  of  the  deep. 


THE   POWER   OF   ELOQUE>TCE.  465 


Thought  without    Utterance.— Tuppeb. 

Come,  I  will  show  thee  an  affliction  unnumbered  among  this 
world's  sorrows, 

Yet  real,  and  wearisome,  and  constant,  embittering  the  cup  of 
life. 

There  be  who  can  think  within  themselves,  and  the  fire  burnetii 
at  their  heart, 

And  eloquence  waiteth  at  their  lips,  yet  they  speak  not  with 
their  tongue ; 

There  be  whom  zeal  quickeneth,  or  slander  stirreth  to  reply, 

Or  need  constraineth  to  ask,  or  pity  sendeth  as  her  messengers, 

But  nervous  dread  and  sensitive  shame  freeze  the  current  of 
their  speech ; 

The  mouth  is  sealed  as  with  lead,  a  cold  weight  presseth  on  the 
heart, 

The  mocking  promise  of  power  is  once  more  broken  in  per- 
formance, 

And  they  stand  impotent  of  words,  travailing  with  unboiu 
thoughts ; 

Courage  is  cowed  at  the  portal ;  wisdom  is  widowed  of  utter- 
ance ; 

He  that  went  to  comfort  is  pitied  ;  he  that  should  rebuke  is 
silent ; 

And  fools,  who  might  listen  and  learn,  stand  by  to  look  and  laugn  • 

While  friends,  with  kinder  eyes,  wound  deeper  by  compassion, 

And  thought,  finding  not  a  vent,  smouldered),  gnawing  at  the 
heart, 

And  the  man  sinketh  in  his  sphere,  for  lack  of  empty  sounds. 

There  be  many  cares  and  sorrows  thou  hast  not  yet  considered, 

And  well  may  thy  soul  rejoice  in  the  fair  privilege  of  speech  ; 

For  at  every  turn  to  want  a  word,  —  thou  canst  not  guess  that 
want ; 

It  is  as  lack  of  breath  or  bread  :   life  hath  no  grief  more  galling. 


The  Power  of  Eloquence.— Tuppeb. 

Come,  1  will   tell   thee  of  a  joy  which  the  parasites  of  pleasure 

have  not  known, 
Though  earth,  and  air,  ami  sea  have  gorged  all  the  appetite!  of 

•ense. 

30 


466  ROSS'S   SPEAKER. 

Benold,  what  fko  is  in  his  eye,  what  fervor  on  his  cheek ! 
That  glorious  burst  of  winged  words !  —  how  bound  they  from 

his  tongue ! 
The  full  expression  of  the  mighty  thought,  the  strong,  triumphal 

argument, 
The  rush  of  native  eloquence,  resistless  as  Niagara, 
The  keen  demand,  the  clear  reply,  the  fine  poetic  image, 
The  nice  analogy,  the  clinching  fact,  the  metaphor  bold  and  free, 
The  grasp  of  concentrated  intellect  wielding  the  omnipotence  of 

truth, 
The  grandeur  of  his  speech,  in  his  majesty  of  mind  1 
Champion  of  the  right,  —  patriot,  or  priest,  or  pleader  of  the 

innocent  cause, 
Jpon  whose  lips  the  mystic  bee  hath  dropped  the  honey  of  per- 
suasion, 
Whose  heart  and  tongue  have  been  touched,  as  of  old,  by  the 

live  coal  from  the  altar, 
How  wide  the  spreading  of  thy  peace,  how  deep  the  draught  t»l 

thy  pleasures ! 
To  hold  the  multitude  as  one,  breathing  in  measured  cadence ; 
A  thousand  men,  with  flashing  eyes,  waiting  upon  thy  will ; 
A  thousand  hearts  kindled  by  thee  with  consecrated  fire ; 
Ten  flaming  spiritual  hecatombs  offered  on  the  mount  of  God  : 
And   now  a  pause,  a    thrilling   pause,  —  they  live    but  in  th; 

words,  — 
Thou  hast  broken  the  bounds  of  self,  as  the  Nile  at  its  rising. 
Thou  art  expanded  into  them,  one  faith,  one  hope,  one  spirit; 
They  breathe  but   in  thy  breath,  their  minds  are  passive  unto 

thine, 
Thou  turnest  the  key  of  their  love,  bending  their  affections  to 

thy  purpose, 
And  all,  in  sympathy  with  thee,  tremble  with  tumultuous  emotions. 
Verily,  O  man,  with  truth  for  thy  theme,  eloquence  shall  throne 

thee  with  archangels. 


Trifles.  —  Tuppeb. 

Yet  once  more,  saith  the  fool,  yet  once,  and  is  it  not  a  little  one  ? 
Spare  me  this  folly  yet  an  hour,  for  what  is  one  among  so 

many  ? 
And  he  blindeth  his  conscience  with  lies,  and  stupefieth  his  neart 

with  doubts. 


THE  GOOD  MAN.  467 

Whom  shall  I  harm  in  this  matter  ?    and  a  little   ill  breedeth 

much  good  ; 
My  thoughts,  are  they  not  mine  own  ?  and  they  leave  no  mark 

behind  them ; 
And  if  God  so  pardoneth  crime,  how  should  these   petty  sins 

affect  him  ?  — 
So  he  transgresseth  yet  again,  and  falleth  by  little  and  little, 
Till  the  ground  crumble  beneath  him,  and  he  sinketh  in  the  gulf 

despairing. 
For  there  is  nothing  in  the  earth  so  small  that  it  may  not  produce 

great  things, 
And  no  swerving  from  a  right  line,  that  may  not  lead  eternally 

astray. 
A  landmark  tree  was  once  a  seed ;  and  the  dust  in  the  balance 

maketh  a  difference ; 
And  the  cairn  is  heaped  high  by  each  one  flinging  a  pebble ; 
The  dangerous  bar  in  the  harbor's  mouth  is  only  grains  of  sand ; 
And  the  shoal  that  hath  wrecked  a  navy  is  the  work  of  a  colony 

of  wo]  ms ; 
Yea,  and  a  despicable  gnat  may  madden  the  mighty  elephant ; 
And  the  living  rock  is  worn  by  the  diligent  flow  of  the  brook. 
Little  art  thou,  O  man,  and  in  trifles  thou  contendest  with  thine 

equals, 
For  atoms  must  crowd  upon  atoms,  ere  crime  groweth  to  be  a 

giant. 
What,  is  thy  servant  a  dog  ?  —  not  yet  wilt  thou  grasp  the  dagger, 
Not  yet  wilt  thou  laugh  with  the  scoffers,  not  yet  betray  the 

innocent ; 
But  if  thou  nourish  in  thy  heart  the  reveries  of  injury  or  passion, 
And  travel  in  mental  heat  the  mazy  labyrinths  of  guilt, 
And  then  conceive  it  possible,  and  then  reflect  on  it  as  done, 
And  use,  by  little  and  little,  thyself  to  regard  thyself  a  villain, 
Not  long  will  crime  be  absent  from  the  voice  that  doth  invoke 

him  to  thy  heart, 
And  bitterly  wilt  thou  grieve,  that  the  buds  have  ripened  into 

poison. 


The   Good  Man.  —  tufphh. 

Ancjels  are  round   the  good  man,  to  catch  the  incense  of  his 

prayers, 
And     tliey    fly    to    minister     kindness    to    those    for    whjm     hu 

pleuileth  ; 


468  ROSS'S   SPEAKER. 

For  the  altar  of  his  heart  .«  lighted,  and  burnetii  before  God 

continually, 
And  he  breatheth,  conscious  of  his  joy,  the  native  atmosphere  of 

heaven  ; 
Yea,  though  poor,  and  contemned,  and  ignorant  of  this  world's 

wisdom, 
111  can  his  fellows  spare  him,  though  they  know  not  of  his 

value. 
Thousands  bewail  a  hero,  and  a  nation  mourneth  for  its  king, 
But  the  whole  universe  lamenteth  the  loss  of  a  man  of  prayer. 
Verily,  were  it  not  for  One,  who  sitteth  on  his  rightful  throne,/ 
Crowned  with  a  rainbow  of  emerald,  the  green  memorial  of 

earth,  — 
For   one,  a  meditating  man,  that  hath  clad  his  Godhead  with 

mortality, 
And  offereth   prayer  without  ceasing,  the  royal   priest  of  Na- 
ture, 
Matter,  and  life,  and  mind  had  sunk  into  dark  annihilation, 
And  the  lightning  frown  of  Justice  withered  the  world  into  nothing 


What  the  Public  School  House  says.  —  Chapin. 

It  says  to  the  poorest  child,  "  You  are  rich  in  this  one  endow- 
ment, before  which  all  external  possessions  grow  dim.  No  piled- 
up  wealth,  no  social  station,  no  throne  reaches  as  high  as  that 
spiritual  plane  upon  which  every  human  being  stands,  by  virtue 
of  his  humanity  ;  and  from  that  plane,  mingled  now  in  the  com- 
mon school  with  the  lowliest  and  lordliest,  we  give  you  the 
opportunity  to  ascend  as  high  as  you  may.  We  put  into  your 
hands  the  key  of  knowledge  ;  leaving  your  religious  convictions, 
with  which  we  dare  not  interfere,  to  your  chosen  guides.  So  far 
as  the  intellectual  path  may  lead,  it  is  open  to  you.  Go  free !  rt 
And  when  we  consider  the  great  principles  which  are  thus  prac- 
tically confessed,  when  we  consider  the  vast  consequences  which 
grow  out  of  this,  I  think  that  little  district  school  house  dilates, 
grows  splendid,  makes  our  hearts  beat  with  admiration  and  grati- 
tude, makes  us  resolve  that  at  all  events  that  must  stand ;  for, 
indeed,  it  is  one  of  the  noblest  symbols  of  the  republic  —  a  sigi* 
and  an  instrument  of  a  great  people,  having  great  power. 


THE  THREE  BLACK    CROWS.  469 


The  Three  Black  Grows.  —  Btbom. 

Two  honest  tradesmen  meeting  in  the  Strand, 

One  took  the  other  briskly  by  the  hand : 

"  Hark  ye,"  said  he ;  "  'tis  an  odd  story  this, 

About  the  crows !  "     "I  don't  know  what  it  is," 

Replied  his  friend.     "  No !  I'm  surprised  at  that 

Where  I  come  from,  it  is  the  common  chat. 

But  you  shall  hear  ;  an  odd  affair  indeed  ! 

And  that  it  happened  they  are  all  agreed. 

Not  to  detain  you  from  a  thing  so  strange, 

A  gentleman,  that  lives  not  far  from  'Change, 

This  week,  in  short,  as  all  the  alley  knows, 

Taking  a  puke,  has  thrown  up  three  black  crows." 

"  Impossible  !  "     "  Nay,  but  it's  really  true ; 

I  had  it  from  good  hands,  and  so  may  you." 

"  From  whose,  I  pray  ?  "     So  having  named  the  man, 

Straight  to  inquire  his  curious  comrade  ran. 

u  Sir,  did  you  tell,"  —  relating  the  affair. — 

44  Yes,  sir,  I  did  ;  and  if  it's  worth  your  care, 

Ask  Mr.  Such-a-one  ;  he  told  it  me  ; 

But,  by  the  by,  'twas  two  black  crows,  not  three." 

Resolved  to  trace  so  wondrous  an  event, 

Whip  to  the  third  the  virtuoso  went. 

u  Sir,"  —  and  so  forth.  — "  Why,  yes  ;  the  thing  Lb  fact, 

Though  in  regard  to  number  not  exact ; 

It  was  not  two  black  crows  ;  'twas  only  one ; 

The  truth  of  that  you  may  depend  upon. 

The  gentleman  himself  told  me  the  case." 

44  Where  may  I  find  him  ?  "     "  Why,  in  such  a  place." 

Away  he  goes,  and  having  found  him  out, — 

44  Sir,  be  so  good  as  to  resolve  a  doubt." 

Then  to  his  last  informant  he  referred, 

And  begged  to  know  if  true  what  he  had  heard. 

44  Did  yon,  sir,  throw  up  a  black  crow  ?  "     44  Not  I !  " 

44  Bless  me  !  how  people  propagate  a  lie ! 

Black  crows  have  been  thrown  up,  three,  two,  and  one, 

And  here  I  find,  at  last,  all  comes  to  none  ! 

Did  you  say  nothing  of  a  crow  at  all  ?  " 

44  Crow  —  crow  —  perhaps  I  might,  now  I  recall 

The  matter  over."     4'  And  pray,  sir,  what  was't  f  " 

44  Why,  [  was  horrid  sick,  and,  at  the  last, 

I  did  throw  up,  and  told  my  neighbors  so, 

SomeUving  that  wus  us  bluck,  sir,  as  a  crow." 


470  ROSS'S    SPEAKER. 


Turn  the   Carpet.  —  Hannah  Moms. 

As  at  their  work  two  weavers  sat, 
Beguiling  time  with  friendly  chat, 
They  touched  upon  the  price  of  meat, 
So  high  a  weaver  scarce  could  eat. 
u  What  with  my  brats  and  sickly  wife," 
Quoth  Dick,  "  I'm  almost  tired  of  life  : 
So  hard  my  work,  so  poor  my  fare, 
'Tis  more  than  mortal  man  can  bear. 

"  How  glorious  is  the  rich  man's  state ! 
His  house  so  fine,  his  wealth  so  great; 
Heaven  is  unjust,  you  must  agree. 
Why  all  to  him  ?  why  none  to  me  ? 
In  spite  of  what  the  Scripture  teaches, 
In  spite  of  all  the  parson  preaches, 
This  world  (indeed,  I've  thought  so  long) 
Is  ruled,  methinks,  extremely  wrong. 
Where'er  I  look,  howe'er  I  range, 
'Tis  all  confused,  and  hard,  and  strange  ; 
The  good  are  troubled  and  oppressed. 
And  all  the  wicked  are  the  blessed." 

Quoth  John,  "  Our  ignorance  is  the  cause 

Why  thus  we  blame  our  Maker's  laws. 

Parts  of  his  ways  alone  we  know  ; 

'Tis  all  that  man  can  see  below. 

Seest  thou  that  carpet,  not  half  done, 

Which  thou,  dear  Dick,  hast  well  begun  t 

Behold  the  wild  confusion  there ; 

So  rude  the  mass,  it  makes  one  stare. 

A  stranger,  ignorant  of  the  trade, 

Would  say,  no  meaning's  there  conveyed ; 

For  where's  the  middle  ?  where's  the  border 

Thy  carpet  now  is  all  disorder." 

Quoth  Dick,  "  My  work  is  yet  in  bits, 
But  still  in  every  part  it  fits ; 
Beside,  you  reason  like  a  lout ; 
Why,  man,  that  carpet's  inside  out ! " 
Says  John,  "Thou  say'st  the  thing  I  mean. 
And  now  I  hope  to  cure  thy  spleen. 


NATURAL  WOULD   INFERIOE   TO  TILE   MORAL.     471 

This  world,  which  clouds  thy  soul  with  doubt, 
Is  but  a  carpet  inside  cut. 

"  As  when  we  view  these  shreds  and  ends, 
We  know  not  what  the  whole  intends, 
So,  when  on  earth  things  look  but  odd, 
They're  working  still  some  scheme  of  God. 
No  plan,  no  pattern  can  we  trace ; 
All  wants  proportion,  truth,  and  grace ; 
The  motley  mixture  we  deride, 
Nor  see  the  beauteous  upper  side. 

"  But  when  we  reach  that  world  of  light, 

And  view  those  works  of  God  aright, 

Then  shall  we  see  the  whole  design, 

And  own  the  Workman  is  divine. 

What  now  seem  random  strokes  will  there 

All  order  and  design  appear  ; 

Then  shall  we  praise  what  here  we  spurned  , 

For  then  the  carpet  shall  be  turned." 

"  Thou'rt  right,"  quoth  Dick  ;  "  no  more  I'll  grumble 

That  this  sad  world's  so  strange  a  jumble  ; 

My  impious  doubts  are  put  to  flight, 

For  my  own  carpet  sets  me  right." 


The  Natural  World  inferior  to  the   Moral 

World.  —  GaiMKB. 

Man,  the  noblest  work  of  God  in  this  lower  world,  walks 
abroad  through  its  labyrinths  of  grandeur  and  beauty,  amid 
countless  manifestations  of  creative  power  and  providential  wis- 
dom. He  acknowledges,  in  all  that  he  beholds,  the  might  that 
called  them  into  being,  the  skill  which  perfected  the  harmony 
of  the  parts,  and  the  benevolence  which  consecrated  all  to  the 
glory  of  God  and  the  welfare  of  his  fellow-creatures.  lie  stands 
entranced  on  the  peak  of  Etna,  or  Tenerifle,  or  Montserrat,  and 
looks  down  upon  the  far  distant  ocean,  silent  to  his  ear,  and  tran- 
quil to  his  eye,  amid  the  rushing  of  tempestuous  winds,  and  the 
fierce  conflict  of  stormy  billows.  He  sits  enraptured  on  the 
mountain  summit,  and  beholds,  as  far  as  the  eye  can  reach, 
a  forest  robe,  flowing,  in  all  the  varieties  of  graceful  undula- 
tions, over  declivity  after  declivity,  as  though  the  fabulous  river 


472  BOSS'S   SPEAKER. 

of  the  skies  were  pouring  its  azure  waves  over  all  the  land 
scape. 

He  hangs  over  the  precipice,  and  gazes  with  awful  delight  on 
the  savage  glen,  rent  open,  as  it  were,  by  the  earthquake,  and 
black  with  lightning-shattered  rocks ;  its  only  music  the  echoing 
thunder,  the  scream  of  the  lonely  eagle,  and  the  tumultuous 
waters  of  the  mountain  torrent.  He  reclines,  in  pensive  mood, 
on  the  hill  top,  and  sees  around  and  beneath  him  all  the  luxuri- 
ant beauties  of  field  and  meadow,  of  olive  yard  and  vineyard,  of 
wandering  stream  and  grove-encircled  lake.  He  descends  to  the 
plain,  and  amid  waving  harvests,  verdant  avenues,  and  luxuriant 
orchards,  sees,  between  garden  and  grass  plat,  the  farm  house, 
embosomed  in  copse  wood  or  "  tall  ancestral  trees."  He  walks 
through  the  valley,  fenced  in  by  barrier  cliffs,  to  contemplate, 
with  mild  enthusiasm,  its  scenes  of  pastoral  beauty  —  the  cottage 
and  its  blossomed  arbor,  the  shepherd  and  his  flock,  the  clumps 
of  oaks  or  the  solitary  willow.  He  enters  the  caverns  buried  fai 
beneath  the  surface,  and  is  struck  with  amazement  at  the  gran- 
deur and  magnificence  of  a  subterranean  palace,  hewn  out,  as  it 
were,  by  the  power  of  the  genii,  and  decorated  by  the  taste  of 
Armida,  or  of  the  queen  of  the  fairies. 

Such  is  the  natural  world ;  and  such,  for  the  most  part,  has  it 
ever  been,  since  men  began  to  subdue  the  wilderness,  to  scatter 
the  ornaments  of  civilization  amid  the  rural  scenery  of  nature, 
and  to  plant  the  lily  on  the  margin  of  the  deep,  the  village  on  the 
hill  side,  and  martial  battlements  in  the  defiles  of  the  mountains. 
Such  has  been  the  natural  world,  whether  beheld  by  the  eye  of 
savage  or  barbarian,  of  the  civilized  or  the  refined.  Such  has  it 
been,  for  the  most  part,  whether  contemplated  by  the  harpers  of 
Greece,  the  bards  of  Northern  Europe,  or  the  voluptuous  min- 
strels of  the  Troubadour  age.  Such  it  was  when  its  beauties,  like 
scattered  stars,  beamed  on  the  page  of  classic  lore ;  and  such, 
when  its  "sunshine  of  picture"  poured  a  flood  of  meridian 
splendor  on  modern  literature.  Such  is  the  natural  world  to  the 
ancient  and  the  modern,  the  pagan  and  the  Christian. 

Admirable  as  the  natural  world  is  for  its  sublimity  and  beauty, 
who  would  compare  it,  even  for  an  instant,  with  the  sublimity 
and  beauty  of  the  moral  world  ?  Is  not  the  soul,  with  its  glorious 
destiny  and  its  capacities  for  eternal  happiness,  more  awful  and 
majestic  than  the  boundless  Pacific  or  the  interminable  Andes  ? 
Is  not  the  mind,  with  its  thoughts  that  wander  through  eternity 
and  its  wealth  of  intellectual  power,  an  object  of  more  intense 
interest  than  forest,  or  cataract,  or  precipice  ?  And  the  heart, 
bo  eloquent  in  the  depth,  purity,  and  pathos  of  its  affections,  —  cap 


SLANDER.  47? 

the  richest  scenery  of  hill  and  dale,  can  the  melody  of  breeze, 
and  brook,  and  bird,  rital  it  in  loveliness? 

The  same  God  is  the  Author  of  the  invisible  and  visible  world. 
The  moral  grandeur  and  beauty  of  the  world  of  man  are  equally 
the  productions  of  his  wisdom  and  goodness  with  the  fair,  the 
sublime,  the  wonderful  in  the  physical  creation.  What,  indeed, 
are  these  but  the  outward  manifestations  of  his  might,  skill,  and 
benevolence  ?  What  are  they  but  a  glorious  volume,  forever 
speaking  to  the  eye  and  ear  of  man,  in  the  language  of  sight  and 
sound,  the  praises  of  its  Author  ?  And  what  are  those  but  images, 
faint  and  imperfect  as  they  are,  of  his  own  incomprehensible 
attributes  ?  What  are  they,  the  soul,  the  mind,  the  heart  of  an 
immortal  being,  but  the  temple  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  the  dwelling 
place  of  Him  whom  the  heaven  of  heavens  can  not  contain,  who 
inhabiteth  eternity  ?  How,  then,  can  we  compare,  even  for  a 
moment,  the  world  of  nature  with  the  world  of  man  ? 


Slander.  —Mrs.  Osgood. 

A  whisper  woke  the  air  — 
A  soft,  light  tone,  and  low, 

Yet  barbed  with  shame  and  woe. 

Now  might  it  only  perish  there, 
Nor  farther  go ! 

Ah  me !  a  quick  and  eager  ear 

Caught  up  the  little  meaning  sound; 

Another  voice  has  breathed  it  clear, 
And  so  it  wanders  round 

From  ear  to  lip,  from  lip  to  ear, 

Until  it  reached  a  gentle  heart, 
And  that  it  broke. 

It  was  the  only  heart  it  found, 
The  only  heart  'twas  meant  to  find, 

When  fir«jt  its  accents  woke: 
It  reached  tnai  tender  heart  at  last, 

And  that  it  broke. 

Low  as  it  scorned  to  others'  ear», 
It  came  a  thunder  crash  to  hers  — 


474  ROSS'S   SPEAKER. 

That  fragile  girl,  so  fair  and  gay  — 
That  guileless  girl,  so  pure  and  true ! 

'Tis  said  a  lovely  humming  bird, 
That  in  a  fragrant  lily  lay, 
And  dreamed  the  summer  morn  away 
Was  killed  but  by  the  gun's  report 
Some  idle  boy  had  fired  in  sport ! 

The  very  sound  —  a  death  blow  came  f 

And  thus  her  happy  heart,  that  beat, 
With  love  and  hope,  so  fast  and  sweet, 
(Shrined  in  its  lily  too  — 
For  who  the  maid  that  knew 
But  owned  the  delicate,  flower-like  grace 
Of  her  young  form  and  face  ?) 
When  first  that  word 
Her  light  heart  heard, 
It  fluttered  like  the  frightened  bird, 
Then  shut  its  wings  and  sighed, 
And  with  a  silent  shudder  died. 


Self-made  Men. 

Who  rule  the  destinies  of  this  nation,  both  in  church  and 
state  ?  The  descendants  of  high  families  ?  No.  The  actual 
nobility  of  America  are  "  novi  homines  "  —  self-originated  men. 
Show  me  the  Hamiltons,  the  Jacksons,  and  the  Clays,  who  in 
their  turn  have  been  lords  of  the  ascendant  in  the  republic,  and 
1  will  show  you  men  who  were  flung  into  life  under  circumstances 
that  required  them  to  depend  upon  their  own  resources.  Tlio 
energy  and  decision  of  character  that  bore  them  on  to  the  highesl 
elevations  of  political  life  was  an  energy  they  acquired  in  over- 
coming early  difficulties  and  discouragements.  The  brilliancy 
that  gleamed  along  their  career  of  glory  was  reflected  from  armor 
brightened  by  early  use,  and  burnished  by  the  wear  of  battle. 
Hercules  began  his  godlike  labors  in  the  cradle.  And  the  cour- 
age of  the  child  that  strangled  the  serpents  was  both  a  pledge 
and  preparation  for  the  boldness  of  the  hero  that  bearded  the 
Nemean  lion  in  his  den. 

Who  possess  the  wealth  and  direct  the  business  enterprise  of 
the  country  ?     Not  the  men  who  were  born  rich,  but  those  who 


THE  IKUHUATE  HOCK..  4":;, 

were  early  disciplined  by  necessity  to  habits  of  active  industry 
and  economy*  There  is  in  this  respect  a  constant  revolution  in 
the  nation.  The  patrician  families  of  the  last  generation  become 
plebeians  in  the  present ;  and  vice  versa,  the  children  of  parents 
who  were  not  worth  a  dollar  now  hold  the  purse  strings  of  the 
nation. 


The  Inchcape  Rock.— Sovtbxt. 

No  stir  in  the  air,  no  swell  on  the  sea  — 
The  ship  was  still  as  she  might  be ; 
The  sails  from  heaven  received  no  motion ; 
The  keel  was  steady  in  the  ocean. 

Without  either  sign  or  sound  of  their  shock, 
The  waves  flowed  over  the  Inchcape  Rock ; 
So  little  they  rose,  so  little  they  fell, 
They  did  not  move  the  Inchcape  bell. 

The  pious  abbot  of  Aberbrothock 
Had  placed  the  bell  on  the  Inchcape  Rock ; 
On  a  buoy  in  the  storm  it  floated  and  swung, 
And  over  the  waves  its  warning  rung. 

When  the  rock  was  hid  by  the  surge's  swell, 
The  mariners  heard  the  warning  bell ; 
And  then  they  knew  the  perilous  rock, 
And  blessed  the  abbot  of  Aberbrothock. 

The  sun  in  heaven  wac  shining  gay ; 

All  things  were  joyful  on  that  day ; 

The  sea  birds  screamed  as  they  wheeled  around. 

And  there  was  joyance  in  the  sound. 

The  float  of  the  Inchcape  bell  was  seen, 
A  darker  spot  on  the  ocean  green ; 
Sir  Ralph  the  Rover  walked  the  deck, 
And  he  fixed  his  eye  on  the  darker  speck. 

He  felt  the  cheering  power  of  spring  ; 
It  made  him  whistle,  it  made  him  sing; 
His  heart  was  mirthful  to  excess, 
But  the  Rover's  mirth  was  wickednes*. 


476  ROSS'S   SPEAKER. 

His  eye  was  on  the  lnchcape  float ; 
Quoth  he,  "  My  men,  put  out  the  boat, 
And  row  me  to  the  lnchcape  Rock  ; 
I'll  plague  the  priest  of  Aberbrothock." 

The  boat  is  lowered,  the  boatmen  row, 
And  to  the  lnchcape  Rock  they  go  ; 
Sir  Ralph  bent  over  from  the  boat, 
And  cut  the  bell  from  the  lnchcape  float 

Down  sank  the  bell  with  a  gurgling  sound ; 
The  bubbles  rose  and  burst  around  ; 
Quoth  he,  "  Who  next  comes  to  the  rock 
Won't  bless  the  priest  of  Aberbrothock." 

Sir  Ralph  the  Rover  sailed  away  ; 
He  scoured  the  sea  for  many  a  day ; 
And  now,  grown  rich  witn  ,  lundered  store. 
He  steers  his  way  for  Scotland's  shore. 

So  thick  a  haze  o'erspread  the  sky, 
They  can  not  see  the  sun  on  high  ; 
The  wind  hath  blown  a  gale  all  day ; 
At  evening  it  hath  died  away. 

Oa  the  deck  the  Rover  takes  his  stand  ; 
So  dark  H  is  they  see  no  land ; 
Quoth  Sir  Ralph,  "  It  will  be  lighter  soon, 
For  there  is  the  dawn  of  the  rising  moon." 

"  Canst  hear,"  said  one,  "  the  breakers  roar  i 
For  yonder,  methinks,  should  be  the  shore ; 
Now,  where  we  are  I  can  not  tell ; 
But  I  wish  I  could  hear  the  lnchcape  bell." 

They  hear  no  sound  :  the  swell  is  strong ; 
Though  the  wind  hath  fallen,  they  drift  along, 
Till  the  vessel  strikes  with  a  shivering  shock : 
O  heavens  !  it  is  the  lnchcape  Rock. 

Sir  Ralph  the  Rover  tore  his  hair ; 
He  cursed  himself  in  his  despair  : 
The  waves  rush  in  on  every  side, 
Avi  the  ship  is  gone  beneath  the  tide. 


THE   DEAR-BOUGHT    VICTORY.  477 


Moral  Courage. 

[Sydney  8mith,  in  his  work  on  moral  philosophy,  speaks  in  this  wise 
of  what  men  lose  for  want  of  a  little  moral  courage,  or  independence  of 
mind.] 

A  gbeat  deal  of  talent  is  lost  in  the  world  for  the  want  of  a 
little  courage.  Every  day  sends  to  their  graves  a  number  of 
obscure  men,  who  have  only  remained  in  obscurity  because  their 
timid.  :y  has  prevented  them  from  making  a  first  effort,  and  who, 
if  they  could  have  been  induced  to  begin,  would,  in  all  probability, 
have  gone  great  lengths  in  the  career  of  fame.  The  fact  is, 
that,  to  do  any  thing  in  this  world  worth  doing,  we  must  not  stand 
back  shivering,  and  thinking  of  the  cold  and  the  danger,  but 
jump  in,  and  scramble  through  as  well  as  we  can.  It  will  not 
do  to  be  perpetually  calculating  tasks,  and  adjusting  nice  chances  ; 
it  did  very  well  before  the  flood,  when  a  man  could  consult  his 
friends  upon  an  intended  publication  for  a  hundred  and  fifty 
years,  and  then  live  to  see  its  success  afterward  ;  but  at  present 
a  man  waits,  and  doubts,  and  hesitates,  and  consults  his  brother, 
and  his  uncle,  and  particular  friends,  till  one  fine  day  he  finds 
that  he  is  sixty  years  of  age  —  that  he  has  lost  so  much  time  in 
consulting  his  first  cousins  and  particular  friends,  that  he  has  no 
more  time  to  follow  their  advice. 


The  Dear-bought   Victory.—  Anon. 

Within  a  balcony  of  state, 

At  ease,  and  happy  beyond  measure, 
A  monkey  sat,  who  had  of  late 

Become  the  master  of  a  treasure ;  — 

Though  not,  indeed,  of  gems  or  gold, — 
Mark !  I  relate  it  to  the  letter, — 

But  fresh,  sweet  nuts,  which,  I'll  be  bold, 
Friend  Pug  esteemed  as  something  bettor. 

These  in  a  sack  he  tied  with  care, 
For  other  monkeys,  by  the  dozen, 

Came  flocking  round,  in  hopes  to  share 
The  rich  possessions  of  their  cousin. 

V 


478  ROSS'S   SPEAKER. 

They  thronged  beneath,  in  greedy  train. 
The  balcony,  where  he  was  seated, 

But  quickly  found  'twas  all  in  vain 

They  reasoned,  menaced,  or  entreated. 

For  Pug,  however  rich  in  fruit, 

Appeared  in  bounty  greatly  lacking, 

And  flung,  in  answer  to  their  suit, 

The  shells  of  nuts  which  he'd  been  cracking. 

At  this  the  suppliants,  filled  with  rage, 
Resolved  to  sue  to  him  no  longer, 

But  battle  now  prepared  to  wage, 

As  they  in  numbers  were  the  stronger. 

The  monkey,  on  this  rude  attack, 

Although  he  thought  the  means  expensive. 

Without  ado,  untied  his  sack, 

And  turned  his  nuts  to  arms  offensive. 

Pug,  with  the  missives,  aimed  his  blows 
So  hard  and  fast,  that,  in  conclusion, 

His  smarting  and  bepelted  foes 
Fled  off  in  cowardly  confusion. 

At  length  he  proudly  stood  alone, 

With  feelings  that  of  rapture  savored, 

Prepared  to  thank,  in  joyous  tone, 

Dame  Fortune,  who  his  cause  had  favored,  — 

That  he  had  from  the  fierce  attack 
His  precious  nuts  so  well  defended, 

But  cast  his  eyes  upon  his  sack, 

And  saw  that  they  were  all  expended. 

Through  these  he  had  maintained  his  place  t 
And,  now  his  foes  had  all  retreated, 

He  stood  precisely  in  the  case 
As  if  himself  had  been  defeated. 

Thus  oft  we  see  a  triumph  cost 
As  much  as  if  the  day  were  lost. 


TIME.      WHAT   IS  TLME.  479 


Time.  —  akow. 

•«  Time  will  end  our  story ; 
But  no  time,  if  -we  end  well,  will  end  our  glory." 

1  saw  a  temple,  reared  by  the  hands  of  man,  standing  with  its 
high  pinnacle  in  the  distant  plain.  The  streams  beat  upon  it  — 
the  God  of  nature  hurled  his  thunderbolts  against  it,  and  yet  it 
stood  firm  as  adamant.  Revelry  was  in  its  halls  ;  the  gay,  the 
happy,  the  young  and  beautiful  were  there.  I  returned,  and  lo, 
the  temple  was  no  more !  its  high  walls  lay  in  scattered  ruins  ; 
moss  and  wild  grass  grew  rankly  there ;  and  at  the  midnight 
hour,  the  hooting  of  the  owl  added  to  the  deep  solitude  which 
reigned  around.  The  young  and  gay  who  reveled  there  had 
passed  away. 

I  saw  a  child  rejoicing  in  his  youth,  the  idol  of  his  mother  and 
the  pride  of  his  father.  I  returned,  and  that  child  had  become 
old.  Trembling  with  the  weight  of  years,  he  stood  the  last  of 
his  generation,  a  stranger  amid  the  desolation  around  him. 

I  saw  a  flourishing  oak  in  all  its  pride  upon  the  mountain  ;  the 
birds  were  caroling  among  the  boughs.  I  returned  ;  it  was  leaf- 
less and  sapless,  and  the  winds  were  playing  at  their  pastime 
through  its  branches. 

"  who  is  this  destroyer  ?  "  said  I  to  my  guardian  angel.  "  It 
is  Time,"  said  he.  When  the  morning  stars  sang  together  with 
joy  over  the  new-made  world,  he  commenced  his  course ;  and 
when  he  shall  have  destroyed  all  that  is  beautiful  of  the  earth, 
plucked  the  sun  from  his  sphere,  veiled  the  moon  in  blood, — 
yes,  when  he  shall  have  rolled  the  heavens  and  the  earth  away 
as  a  scroll,  —  then  shall  an  angel  from  the  throne  of  God  come 
forth,  and,  one  foot  on  the  sea  and  one  on  the  land,  lift  up  his 
hand  toward  heaven,  and  swear  by  heaven's  Eternal — "  Tinui 
is,  time  teas,  but  time  shall  be  no  longer." 


What  is   Time.  —  Mimdin. 

I  askki)  an  aged  man,  a  man  of  cares, 
Wrinkled,  and  curved,  and  white  with  hoary  hairs: 

II  Time  is  the  warp  of  life,"  he  said  ;  "  O,  tell 
riif  voting,  ihe  fair,  the  gay,  to  weave  it  well." 


iy()  "ROSS'S  SPEAKER. 

I  asked  the  ancient,  venerable  dead, 
Sages  who  wrote,  and  warriors  who  bled  : 
From  the  cold  grave  a  hollow  murmur  flowed, 
"  Time  sowed  the  seed  we  reap  in  this  abode  1 " 

I  asked  the  dying  sinner,  ere  the  tide 

Of  life  had  left  his  veins.     "  Time  !  "  he  replied  — 

"  I've  lost  it !     Ah,  the  treasure  !  "  and  he  died. 

1  asked  a  spirit  lost ;  but  O,  the  shriek 

That  pierced  my  soul !     I  shudder  while  I  speak. 

It  cried,  "  A  particle,  a  speck,  a  mite 

Of  endless  years,  duration  infinite  ! n 

I  asked  my  Bible ;  and  methinks  it  said, 
44  Time  is  the  present  hour  ;  the  past  is  fled  ; 
Live  —  live  to-day  :  to-morrow  never  yet 
On  any  human  being  rose  or  set." 

I  asked  old  Father  Time  himself,  at  last ; 
But  in  a  moment  he  flew  swiftly  past ; 
His  chariot  was  a  cloud,  the  viewless  wind 
His  noiseless  steeds,  which  left  no  trace  behind. 

I  asked  the  mighty  angel  who  shall  stand 

One  foot  on  sea  and  one  on  solid  land : 

44 1  now  declare  ;  the  mystery  is  o'er  ; 

Time  was"  he  cried, 44  but  Time  shall  be  no  more !  " 


The  Prayerless  One.  —  Anon. 

He  never  prays  !     The  God  of  heaven  has  watched 

O'er  all  his  steps,  and  with  that  careful  eye 

Which  never  sleeps,  has  guarded  him  from  death, 

And  shielded  him  from  danger.     Through  the  hours, 

The  thoughtless  hours,  of  youth,  a  hand  unseen 

Has  guarded  all  his  footsteps  o'er  the  wild 

And  thorny  paths  of  life,  and  led  him  on 

In  safety  through  them  all.     In  latter  days, 

Still  the  same  hand  has  ever  been  his  guard 

From  dangers  seen  and  unseen.     Clouds  have  lowered, 

And  tempests  oft  have  burst  above  his  head, 


THE   PRAYERLESS  ONE  48  4 

But  that  protecting  hand  has  warded  off 

The  thunder  strokes  of  death  ;  and  still  he  stands 

A  monument  of  mercy.     Years  have  passed, 

Of  varied  dangers  and  of  varied  guilt, 

But  still  the  sheltering  wings  of  love  have  been 

Outspread  in  mercy  over  him.     He  hath  walked 

Upon  the  beauteous  earth  for  many  years, 

And  skies,  and  stars,  and  the  magnificence 

Of  mighty  waters,  and  the  warning  voice 

That  speaks  amid  the  tempest,  and  the  notes 

Of  softer  tone  that  float  on  evening  winds  — 

All  these  have  told  him  of  a  God  that  claims 

The  homage  of  the  soul.     And  he  has  lived, 

And  viewed  them  in  their  glory  as  they  stood, 

The  workmanship  of  God  ;  and  there  was  breathed 

Around  him,  even  from  infancy   a  voice 

That  told  of  mercy  bending  o'er  him 

With  looks  of  angel  sweetness,  and  of  power 

Resistless  in  its  going  forth  ;  but  stayed 

By  that  seraphic  mercy  still  he  stands 

Cold  and  unfeeling  as  the  rock  that  braves 

The  ocean  billows :  still  he  never  prays  ! 

He  never  prays.     A  lonely  wanderer  cast 

On  life's  wild,  thorny  desert,  urging  on 

His  heedless  steps  through  many  a  secret  snare 

And  many  a  danger.     Darkness  closes  round 

His  dubious  path,  save  here  and  there  a  ray 

That  flits  along  the  gloom  ;  but  still  he  seems 

From  some  bewildered  meteor  of  the  night 

To  ask  for  guidance  and  direction  still. 

He  never  prays ! 
Earth's  many  voices  send  their  songs 
Of  grateful  praise  up  to  the  throne 
Of  the  Eternal ;  morning,  noon,  and  night, 
On  every  side  around  him,  swell  the  notes 
Of  adoration,  gratitude,  and  joy  ; 
The  lark",  the  grove,  the  valley,  and  the  hill, 
Swell  the  loud  chorus;  and  some  happy  heart*, 
Redeemed  from  error,  and  restored  to  peace 
Arid  blost  communion  with  the  Holy  One, 
Join  in  the  glad,  the  humble,  blissful  strain, 
Hut  still  —  he  never  ]>ravs. 
31 


482  ROSS'S    SPEAKER. 

When  Evening  spreads 
Her  solemn  shades  around  him,  and  the  world 
Grows  dim  upon  his  eye,  and  many  stars 
Scattered  in  glory  o'er  the  vault  of  heaven, 
Call  on  the  spirit  to  retire  a  while 
From  earth  and  its  low  vanities,  and  seek 
The  high  and  holy  intercourse  with  God 
Vouchsafed  to  mortals  here  —  he  never  prays. 

When  morning  kindles  in  the  eastern  sky, 
With  all  its  radiant  glory,  and  the  sun 
Comes  up  in  majesty,  and  o'er  the  earth 
Wakes  all  her  active  tribes  to  active  life, 
And  breaks  the  death-like  solitude  that  reigned 
Erewhile  o'er  Nature's  face,  —  when  on  his  eye 
Earth  smiles  in  beauty  'neath  the  lucid  ray, 
And  feathered  songsters  pour  their  strains  of  joy 
Upon  his  ear,  —  still  not  a  note  of  praise 
Or  humble  prayer  arises  from  his  lips. 
Morn  after  morn  returns  to  all  its  sweet 
And  peaceful  loveliness,  and  oft  invites 
His  spirit  to  commune  with  God  ;  but  still 
He  spurns  the  offer  —  still  he  never  prays. 

Short  is  the  dream  of  Life.     Its  days  of  care, 
Its  hours  of  pleasure,  soon  will  pass  away ; 
And  on  the  wondering  eye  shall  pour  the  broad, 
Unceasing  splendor  of  Eternity. 
O,  when  the  scenes  of  life  have  faded  all 
Like  morning  visions,  and  my  spirit  stands 
Before  the  judgment  throne,  and  finds  its  deeds, 
And  words,  and  thoughts  all  registered  in  heaven, 
Then  may  it  not  be  found  recorded  there 
Of  me  —  He  never  prays. 


Wealth.  —  E.  a.  Nisbbt. 

Who  does  not  honor  the  princely  dispenser  of  good  gifts,  and 
the  royal  reliever  of  many  wants  ?  It  is  his  vocation  to  bless, 
and  his  privilege  to  receive  benedictions.  Under  his  auspices 
the  artist  fights  his  way  to  distinction,  the  poet  scales  the  summit 
of  Parnassus,    he  scholar  vanquishes  the  resistance  of  science, 


MILITARY    GLORY.  483 

and  the  church  builds  her  altars  and  dedicates  her  temples. 
There  is  another  class  of  Mammon's  worshipers,  whose  desires 
for  gold  are  more  inordinate  than  Caesar's  for  dominion,  and 
less  scrupulous  than  Napoleon's  for  empire  Tc  amass  it,  all 
energies  are  strained,  all  appetites  conquered,  all  principle  ban- 
ished, and  all  honesty  discarded. 

And  it  is  not  for  its  enjoyments,  its  independence,  or  its  power  ; 
it  is  simply  to  be  conscious  of  coin,  and  cognizant  of  dollars ;  to 
reign  upon  'Change  and  to  be  pointed  at  upon  the  Rialto ;  to 
preside  over  an  estate,  like  the  spirit  of  opulence  o'er  the  caverns 
of  Potosi,  or  the  genius  of  avarice  o'er  the  pits  of  Golconda.  He 
whose  only  ambition  it  is  to  be  rich,  even  for  the  innocent  pleas- 
ures  money  can  give,  is  greeted  with  but  little  respect,  although 
he  may  induce  no  censure.  Whilst  he  who  acquires  gain  in 
order  to  dispense  its  blessings  to  the  poor,  or  to  furnish  the 
means  of  full,  untrammeled  action  to  enlarged  intelligence  and 
xpansive  benevolence,  is  loved  by  all  and  condemned  by  none. 

He  is  the  steward  of  God's  mercies,  and  the  agent  of  his 
Jivine  beneficence.  But  he  from  whom  pity  can  not  wring  a 
pittance,  or  famine  a  crumb,  or  friendship  a  token,  is  of  all  men 
the  most  supremely  contemptible,  and  of  all  small  things  the 
most  diminutively  little. 


Military  Glory.  —  E.  a.  Nisbht. 

No  glory  is  more  dazzling  to  the  ardent  imagination  of  youth 
than  that  which  encircles  the  name  of  a  successful  warrior. 
The  battle  field  is  the  scene  of  valor  and  chivalry,  of  mental 
energy  and  personal  hazard,  and  therefore  inviting  to  the  botd 
and  adventurous.  Proud  is  the  heart,  and  exulting  the  step,  of 
the  captain  returning  from  conquest.  For  him  the  "  welkin 
rings  "  with  plaudits,  to  him  the  senate  decrees  the  triumph,  and 
around  him  hover  the  warm  affections  of  the  grateful  fair. 

Honors  cluster  upon  his  brow,  the  wreath  is  plaited  to  entwine 
him,  the  garland  is  woven  to  crown  him,  and  to  his  memory 
rises  the  monument  to  meet  the  distant  ages  in  their  coming. 
There  is  magic  in  the  dancing  plume,  there  is  safety  in  the  glu- 
tei ing  blade,  and  there  is  love  in  the  hero's  heart.  War  is  an 
evil,  and  Boldiers  are  but  necessary  evils.  Yet  military  ambition 
should  not  always  be  indulged.  War  has  its  origin  in  the  wors* 
passions  of  our  nature,  and  the  most  consuming  ills  follow  in  its 
train.      The   feudfl  of    individuals  and   the  conflicts   of  national 


484  ROSS'S  SPEAKER. 

interest  generate  strife  ;  the  tocsin  is  sounded,  the  hosts  are 
marshaled,  and  the  battle  is  lost  and  won ;  yet  who  shall  estimate 
the  woe  which  the  day  of  victory  brings  ? 

The  laurel  of  the  victor  is  steeped  in  the  tears  of  widowhood, 
and  embalmed  in  the  groans  of  orphanage  ;  and  the  fame  of  his 
exploits  is  heralded  in  the  last  agonies  of  expiring  thousands.  It 
may  be  the  struggle  has  rescued  an  empire  from  bondage,  and 
redeemed  a  nation  from  slavery.  If  so,  the  contest  is  holy,  and 
the  victor  should  be  canonized.  It  may  be  that  it  forges  chains 
for  millions,  overturns  the  foundations  of  civil  liberty,  and  6trikes 
free  states  from  the  catalogue  of  sovereignties.  If  30,  the  fight 
is  unhallowed,  and  the  victor  should  be  damned. 

Wars  most  frequently  spring  from  the  selfish  ambition  of  indi- 
viduals, from  the  rivalry  and  wrath  of  party  leaders.  Parties 
are  formed,  the  foundations  of  society  are  moved,  and  the  people 
rage.  Some  daring  spirit  rises  upon  the  tide,  and  directs  its 
flow ;  with  right,  liberty,  and  law  upon  his  tongue,  and  a  crown 
in  his  heart,  he  stirs  the  prejudices,  inflames  the  passions,  and 
arouses  the  vengeance  of  the  multitude. 

At  length  the  blow  is  struck,  and  the  law,  the  church,  and  tlw 
altar  sink;  from  the  fountain  of  civil  broil  gushes  out  the  stream 
of  blood,  and  rapid  and  turgid  it  rolls  its  desolating  flood  over 
private  faith  and  public  weal.  The  bark  of  state  drifts  wildly 
away  into  the  ocean  of  anarchy,  shoreless,  dark,  and  tempestuous. 

But  the  clouds  pass  away,  the  sky  is  serene,  and  its  orb  re- 
fulgent; the  din  of  battle  dies  in  the  distance,  and  deep  as  the 
sleep  of  eternity  is  the  silence  that  broods  over  the  state.  Is 
this  the  quiet  of  liberty  and  law  ?  Ah,  no  !  it  is  the  lethargic 
stupor  of  despotism.  Such  are  the  fruits  of  war,  and  such  the 
results  of  unchastened  military  ambition.  Dearer  by  far  to  me 
is  the  garland  which  adorns  the  brow  of  the  civilian,  than  the 
'aurel  which  encircles  the  head  of  the  warrior. 


Memory.  —  w.  M.  Patio. 

Stand  on  a  funeral  mound, 

Far  from  all  that  love  thee, 
With  a  barren  heath  around, 

With  a  cypress  bower  above  thee, 
And  think,  while  the  sad  wind  frets, 

And  the  night  in  cold  gloom  closes, 
()f  spring,  and  spring's  sweet  violets. 

Of  summer,  and  summer's  roses. 


BR1EKS   AJS~L>   BEKKIES.  4*5 

Sleep  where  the  thunders  fly 

Across  the  tossing  billow  ; 
Thy  canopy  the  sky, 

And  the  lonely  deck  thy  pillow  ; 
And  dream,  while  the  chill  sea  foam 

In  mockery  dashes  o'er  thee, 
Of  the  cheerful  hearth,  and  the  quiet  home. 

And  the  kiss  of  her  that  bore  thee. 

Watch  in  the  deepest  cell 

Of  the  foeman's  dungeon  tower, 
Till  hope's  most  cherished  spell 

Has  lost  its  cheering  power  ; 
And  sing,  while  the  galling  chain 

On  every  stiff  limb  freezes, 
Of  the  huntsman  hurrying  o'er  the  plain, 

Of  the  breath  of  the  morning  breezes. 

Talk  of  the  minstrel's  lute, 

The  warrior's  high  endeavor, 
When  the  honeyed  lips  are  mute, 

And  the  strong  arm  crushed  forever ; 
Look  back  to  the  summer  sun, 

From  the  mist  of  dark  December ; 
Then  say  to  the  broken-hearted  one, 

"  "JTis  pleasant  to  remember." 


Briers  and  Berries.  —  Baoww. 

'Twas  on  a  gloomy,  smoky  day, 

If  rightly  I  the  date  remember, — 
For  certainly  I  cannot  say,  — 

About  the  middle  of  September, 
When  I,  astride  my  pacing  gray, 
Was  plodding  on  my  weary  way, 
To  spend  the  night,  and  preach  the  word 
To  people  who  had  never  heard 
The  gospel  ;  or,  to  say  the  least, 
Had  never  viewed  it  as  a  feast 
Of  fat  things,  full  of  marrow. 


186  ROSS'S   SPEAKER. 

la  sadness,  as  I  rode  along, 

And  crossed  the  silver  Unadilla, 
The  robin  sung  his  plaintive  song. 

And  faintly  drooped  the  fading  lily  , 
The  smoky  sky,  no  longer  blue, 

Assumed  a  dim  and  dusky  gray, 
And  autumn  o'er  my  feelings  threw 

The  coloring  of  its  own  decay, 
And  filled  my  heart  with  sorrow. 

I,  in  my  mind,  was  pondering  o'er 

The  miseries  that  beset  the  preacher—-- 
The  persecutions  which  he  bore, 

The  scoff  and  scorn  of  every  creature  ; 
His  heated  brain,  his  frame  worn  down, 

Emaciated,  and  dyspeptic  ; 
The  hardened  bigot's  iron  frown, 

The  jeers  and  satire  of  the  skeptic  ; 
One  mocking  revelation's  page, 

The  other  ridiculing  reason  ; 
And  then  the  storms  we  must  engage, 

And  all  th'  inclemencies  of  season. 

In  this  desponding,  gloomy  mood, 

I  rode,  perhaps,  a  mile  or  two, 
When,  lo  !  beside  the  way  there  stood 

A  little  girl,  with  eyes  of  blue, 
Light  hair,  and  cheeks  as  red  as  cherries ; 

And  through  the  briers,  with  much  ado, 
She  wrought  her  way  to  pick  the  berries. 

Quoth  I,  "  My  little  girl,  it  seems 
To  me  you  buy  your  berries  dear ; 

For  down  your  hand  the  red  blood  streams, 
And  down  your  cheek  there  rolls  a  tear." 

"  O,  yes,"  said  she  ;  "  but  then,  you  know, 

There  will  be  briers  where  berries  grow." 

These  words  came  home  with  keen  rebuke 
To  me,  who  mourned  life's  little  jostles, 

And  called  to  mind  the  things  that  Luke 
Has  written  of  the  first  apostles, 

YVho  faced  the  foe  without  a  fear, 

And  counted  even  life  not  dear. 


THE   FALL   OF  JERUSALEM  487 

And  since,  from  that  good  hour  to  this, 
Come  pleasant  or  come  stormy  weather, 

I  still  reflect,  that  human  bliss 

And  human  woe  are  mixed  together ; 

Come  smiling  friend  or  frowning  foe  — 

'There  will  be  briers  where  berries  grow." 


The  Fall  of  Jerusalem.—  Ckolt. 

"  TlijJ  abomination  of  desolation,"  the  pagan  standard,  ivas 
fixed  where  it  was  to  remain  until  the  plow  had  passed  over 
the  ruins  of  Jerusalem.  On  this  fatal  night  no  man  laid  his 
head  on  his  pillow.  Heaven  and  earth  were  in  conflict.  Meteors 
burned  above  us ;  the  ground  shook  under  our  feet ;  the  volcano 
blazed  ;  the  wind  burst  forth  in  irresistible  blasts,  and  swept  the 
living  and  the  dead,  in  whirlwinds,  far  into  the  desert.  We 
heard  the  bellowing  of  the  distant  Mediterranean,  as  if  its  waters 
were  at  our  side,  swelled  by  the  deluge.  The  lakes  and  rivers 
roared,  and  inundated  the  land.  The  fiery  sword  shot  out  ten- 
fold fire.  Thunder  pealed  from  every  quarter  of  the  heavens. 
Lightning,  in  immense  sheets,  of  an  intensity  and  duration  that 
turned  the  darkness  into  more  than  day,  withering  eye  and  soul, 
burned  from  the  zenith  to  the  ground,  and  marked  his  track  by 
forests  of  flame,  and  shattered  the  summits  of  the  hills. 

I  knew  the  cause,  the  unspeakable  cause;  and  knew  that  the 
last  hour  of  crime  was  at  hand.  A  few  fugitives,  astonished  to 
see  one  man  among  them  not  sunk  into  the  lowest  feebleness  of 
fear,  came  around  me,  and  besought  me  to  lead  them  to  some 
safety,  if  such  were  now  to  be  found  on  earth.  I  openly  coun- 
selled them  to  die  in  the  hallowed  ground  of  the  temple.  They 
followed,  and  I  led,  through  streets  encumbered  with  every  shape 
of  human  suffering,  to  the  foot  of  Mount  Moriah.  But  beyond 
that  we  found  advance  impossible  Piles  of  clouds  whose  dark- 
ness was  palpable,  even  in  the  midnight  in  which  we  stood, 
obscured  the  holy  hill.  Impatient,  and  not  to  be  daunted  by 
any  thing  that  man  could  overcome,  I  cheered  my  disheartened 
band,  and  attempted  to  lead  the  way  up  the  ascent.  But  I  had 
scarcely  entered  the  cloud,  when  I  was  swept  down  by  a  gust 
that  tore  the  rocks  in  a  flinty  shower  around  me.  And  now 
rune  the  last  and  most  wonderful  sign  that  marked  the  fate  of 
rejected  Israel. 

While  I  lay  helpless,  I  heard   the  whirlwind   roar  through  the 


18P  ROSS'S   SPEAKER. 

cloudy  hill,  and  the  vapors  began  to  revolve.  A  pale  light,  like 
that  of  the  rising  moon,  quivered  on  their  edges,  and  the  clouds 
rose  rapidly,  shaping  themselves  into  forms  of  battlements  and 
towers.  The  sound  of  voices  was  heard  within,  low  and  distinct, 
yet  strangely  sweet.  Still  the  luster  brightened,  and  as  the  airy 
building  rose,  tower  on  tower  and  battlement  on  battlement,  we 
knelt  and  gazed  on  this  more  than  mortal  architecture,  that 
continued  rising,  and  spreading,  and  glowing  with  a  serene r 
light,  still  soft  and  silvery,  yet  to  which  the  broadest  moonbeam 
was  dim.  At  last  it  stood  forth  from  earth  to  heaven,  the  colossal 
image  of  the  first  temple  —  of  the  building  raised  by  the  wisest 
of  men,  and  consecrated  to  the  visible  glory. 

All  Jerusalem  saw  the  image,  and  the  shout  that,  in  the  midst 
of  their  despair,  ascended  from  its  thousands  and  tens  of  thou- 
sands, told  what  proud  remembrances  that  wore.  But  a  hymn 
was  heard  that  might  have  hushed  the  world  beside.  Never  fell 
on  my  ear,  never  on  human  sense,  a  sound  so  majestic,  yet  so 
subduing  —  so  full  of  melancholy,  yet  of  grandeur  and  command. 
This  vast  portal  opened,  and  from  it  marched  a  host  such  as 
man  had  never  seen  before  —  such  as  man  shall  never  see  but 
once  again  —  the  guardian  angels  of  the  city  of  David  They 
came  forth  gloriously,  but  with  woe  in  all  their  steps  ;  the  stars 
upon  their  helmets  dim ;  their  robes  stained  ;  tears  flowing  down 
their  cheeks  of  celestial  beauty.  "  Let  us  go  hence,"  swelled 
upon  the  night,  to  the  uttermost  limits  of  the  land.  The  pro- 
cession lingered  long  upon  the  summit  of  the  hill.  The  thunders 
pealed  ;  and  they  rose  at  the  command,  diffusing  waves  of  light 
over  the  expanse  of  heaven.  The  chorus  was  still  heard,  mag- 
nificent and  melancholy,  until  their  splendor  was  diminished  to 
the  brightness  of  a  star.  Then  the  thunder  roared  again.  The 
cloudy  temple  was  scattered  on  the  wind,  and  darkness,  the 
*men  of  the  grave,  settled  upon  Jerusalem. 


May. 

[Leigh  Hunt,  •whose  writings  are  remarkable  for  an  extreme  delicacy 
of  fancy,  although  deformed  by  a  quaintness  savoring  of  affectation,  is 
the  author  of  the  following  poem,  suggested  by  the  season,  which  shows, 
in  a  striking  manner,  both  his  excellences  and  his  defects.] 

May  !  thou  month  of  rosy  beauty, 
Month  when  pleasure  is  a  duty ; 
Month  of  maids  that  milk  the  kine  — 
Bosom  rich  and  breath  divine  ; 


MAY.  489 

Month  of  bees  and  month  of  flowers  ; 
Month  of  blossom-laden  bowers  ; 
Month  of  little  hands  with  daisies, 
Lover's  love,  and  poet's  praises ; 
O,  thou  merry  month  complete  — 
May  !  —  that  very  name  is  sweet. 

May  was  maid  in  olden  times, 
And  is  still  in  Scottish  rhymes  ; 
May's  the  blooming  hawthorn  bough  ; 
May's  the  month  that's  laughing  now. 
I  no  sooner  write  the  word 
Than  it  seems  as  though  it  heard. 
Like  a  sweet  face,  rosily  ; 
Like  an  actual  color  bright, 
Flushing  from  the  paper's  white  ; 
Like  a  bride  that  knows  her  power, 
Startled  in  a  summer  bower. 

If  the  rains  that  do  us  wrong 

Come  to  keep  the  winter  long, 

And  deny  us  the  sweet  looks, 

I  can  love  thee,  sweet ;  in  books  — 

Love  thee  in  the  poet's  pages, 

Where  they  keep  thee  green  for  ages ; 

Love  and  read  thee,  as  a  lover 

Reads  his  lady's  letter  over. 

Breathing  blessings  on  the  art 

Which  commingles  those  that  part. 

There  is  May  in  books  forever : 
May  will  part  from  Spenser  never ; 
May's  in  Milton  ;  May's  in  Prior ; 
May's  in  Chaucer,  Thomson,  Dyer ; 
May's  in  all  the  Italian  books ; 
She  has  old  and  modern  nooks, 
Where  she  sleeps  with  nymphs  and  elve« 
In  happy  places  they  call  shelves, 
And  will  rise  and  dress  your  rooms 
Willi  a  drapery  thick  with  blooms. 
Come,  ye  rains,  then,  if  ye  will  ; 
May's  at  home  and  with  me  still ; 
Bui  come,  rather  thou,  good  weathor. 
And  find  iifl  >'i  the  fields  together. 


4^0  ROSS'S    SPEAKER. 


Tlie  Majesty  of  Intellect.—  Rev  g.  s.  Weavbb 

Fbom  time  immemorial  intellectual  endowments  have  been 
crowned  with  bays  of  honor.  In  all  times  and  nations  intellect 
has  been  the  idol-god  of  the  human  race.  Men  have  worshiped 
at  its  shrine  with  an  Eastern  idolatry.  Men  of  great  intellect 
have  been  regarded  as  demigods.  The  multitude  have  looked 
upon  them  -«ith  awe-struck  wonder.  An  impression  has  been 
felt,  as  of  tne  presence  of  a  grand  and  solemn  agent  of  spiritual 
majesty  and  power.  With  cheerful  and  reverent  hands  the 
world  has  crowned  intellect  with  its  richest  honors.  Its  pathway 
has  been  strewn  with  flowers ;  its  brow  has  worn  the  loftiest 
plume ;  it  has  sat  upon  the  proudest  throne ;  it  has  held  the 
mightiest  scepter  of  power.  This  general,  universal  adoration 
of  intellect  is  proof  at  once  both  of  its  transcendent  worth  and 
power.  But  evidences  mightier  than  these  are  standing  thick  as 
stars  in  night's  diadem,  all  through  the  universe,  proclaiming  the 
worth  and  power  of  that  which  produces  thought,  and  adapts 
ends  to  means. 

By  intellect  divine  came  the  earth,  rolling  her  vast  circuit 
among  the  numberless  hosts  of  the  family  of  worlds,  with  all  its 
rich  and  gorgeous  furniture.  By  intellect  divine  came  the 
glory-flashing  magnificence  of  heaven  ;  its  blazing  suns  lit 
beyond  suns  that  roam  and  shine  through  the  measureless  spaces 
of  immensity.  By  intellect  human  came  the  secondary  creations 
that  mark  with  the  chiseled  lines  of  thought  and  skill  the  career 
of  man  —  the  cultivated  fields,  the  vine-clad  hills,  the  mill- 
strswn  vales,  the  love-lit  homes,  the  village-decked  plains,  the 
city-girt  continents,  the  steamer-covered  streams,  the  wire- 
woven  and  iron-bound  lands,  and  sail-wreathed  oceans.  By 
intellec.  came  all  the  stirring,  sublime,  mystery-woven  realities 
of  the  universe.  Then  is  it  not  worthy  of  our  attention  ?  And 
though  but  a  feeble  spark  be  ours,  should  it  not  be  cultivated  ? 


Character  the  Soul's  Habiliment.  —  Rbv.  g.  s.  Wbavbe 

Every  youth  must,  make  his  own  character.  It  is  a  work 
which  God  has  wisely  consigned  to  him  alone.  No  other  can  do 
it  for  him.  Not  man,  or  angel,  or  God  can  form  a  character  for 
his  sou!.  These  may  assist  him,  but  the  work  he  must  do  him- 
self.    Character  is  the  unseen  spirit-garment  that  one's  thoughts 


THE   SLEEPER   ON    GALILEE.  49 1 

and  feelings  weave  about  his  soul  with  the  invisible  fingers  of 
the  divine  law  of  reward  and  retribution. 

It  is  a  mysterious  and  glorious  work,  thus,  with  the  thoughts 
that  glow  with  light,  and  the  feelings  that  burn  with  love,  to 
weave  about  our  souls  those  robes  of  imperishable  beauty,  glit- 
tering with  the  party-colored  light  of  every  virtue,  which  are  a 
defense  against  all  that  can  harm  us,  which  draw  around  us,  in 
admiration  and  joy,  multitudes  of  earth's  best  spirits,  and  which, 
in  heaven,  we  shall  wear,  unshamed  by  their  comparison  with 
the  habiliments  that  mantle  the  angel  forms. 

And  glorious  is  the  thought  that  these  robes  are  of  our  own 
forming.  They  are  ours.  And  the  joy  and  the  glory  of  their 
wearing  is  ours.  Not  with  wealth  were  they  bought ;  and  not 
as  an  inherited  heirloom  did  they  descend  upon  us,  nor  as  the 
patrimony  of  parental  industry;  not  with  other  hands  were  they 
formed,  nor  with  others'  exertions  were  they  obtained.  No ; 
for  they  are  ours.  We  formed  them  by  industrious  exertion  in 
behalf  of  the  good,  the  beautiful,  and  the  true —  formed  them  in 
the  efforts  of  wisdom,  virtue,  and  love  ;  in  trial,  tears,  and  prayer  ; 
in  struggle,  discipline,  and  hope ;  in  constancy,  energy,  and  de- 
votion—  and  formed  them  for  the  glory  of  our  own  souls,  and  the 
good  of  all  with  whom  we  are  linked  in  love  and  duty.  We 
formed  them  for  earth,  and  formed  them  for  the  skies.  We 
shall  wear  them  through  time,  and  wear  them  in  eternity.  But, 
God  be  thanked,  we  may  brighten  and  strengthen  them  below, 
and  adorn  and  enrich  them  more  and  more,  even  forever  in 
heaven. 


The   Sleeper  on   Galilee.  —  Miss  Harribt  J.  Mm. 

The  storm  was  abroad,  and  the  wind  on  the  sea 
Had  rocked  the  rough  cradle  of  dark  Galilee, 
Till  the  waters  were  fearful,  and  hoarse  was  the  roar, 
As  the  billows  leaped  outward,  and  broke  on  the  shore. 

A  frail  bark  was  plowing  each  hollow  and  steep, 
Now  mounting  to  ether,  now  lost  in  the  deep, 
Still  vanquished,  hut  turning  anew  to  the  strife, 
Like  the  vessel  of  hope  on  the  ocean  of  life. 

And  th'*  cheek  of  tho  seaman  at  midnight  grew  pale 
And  the  prayer  of  the  soorner  was  lost  in  the  gale, 
And  moans  Struggled  up  on  the  shuddering  air, 
As  some  stout  heart  grew  faint,  and  gave  up  to  despair. 


192  KOfcSIS   SPKAKJiK. 

Vet  Une  in  that  tumult  was  sleeping  the  while, 
And  His  hrow  of  pale  peace  fulness  glowed  to  a  smile, 
And  the  anguish  that  shadowed  His  forehead  by  day 
In  a  dream  of  strange  rapture  had  melted  away. 

A  wail  on  His  ear,  and  a  hand  on  His  arm, 
"  Ah  !  carest  thou  not  that  we  die  in  the  storm  ?  n 
But  scarce  from  that  lip  had  the  murmuring  passed, 
Ere  the  brow  of  the  sleeper  was  bared  to  the  blast. 

He  breathed  on  the  billows ;  they  knelt  in  His  breath, 
And  still  was  the  heart  of  the  ocean  in  death, 
And  the  pitiless  tempest  came  mute  at  His  nod, 
And  furled  its  dark  wings  in  the  presence  of  God. 

The  stars  were  in  waiting,  and  full  was  the  glow, 
As  they  thronged  o'er  the  motionless  mirror  below, 
And  fearful  ones  whispered,  "  What  being  have  we, 
That  reins  the  fierce  tempest  and  fetters  the  sea  ?  " 

But  He  turned  with  a  sigh  to  His  pillow  apart, 
And  the  dream  that  was  broken  crept  back  to  His  heart, 
And  the  word  that  had  stilled,  and  the  storm  that  had  riven, 
Alike  were  forgot  in  that  vision  of  heaven. 


The   Winged   Worshippers.  —  c.  Sfbaavb. 

Gav,  guiltless  pair,* 
What  seek  ye  from  the  fields  of  heaven  ? 

Ye  have  no  need  of  prayer, 
Ye  have  no  sins  to  be  forgiven. 

Why  perch  ye  here, 
Where  mortals  to  their  Maker  bend  ? 

Can  your  pure  spirits  fear 
The  God  ye  never  could  offend  ? 

Ye  never  knew 
The  crimes  for  which  we  come  to  weep  : 

Penance  is  not  for  you, 
Blest  wnnderers  of  the  upper  deep. 

•  Two  rwnUowt  h»T5ng  entered  a  church  during  dirlM 


THE   FOUR   MASTER  SPIRITS.  493 

To  you  'tis  given 
To  wake  sweet  nature's  untaught  lays  ; 

Beneath  the  arch  of  heaven 
To  chirp  away  a  life  of  praise. 

Then  spread  each  wing, 
Far,  far  above,  o'er  lakes  and  lands, 

And  join  the  choirs  that  sing 
In  yon  blue  dome,  not  reared  with  hands. 

Or,  if  ye  stay 
To  note  the  consecrated  hour, 

Teach  me  the  airy  way, 
And  let  me  try  your  envied  power. 

Above  the  crowd, 
On  upward  wings,  could  I  but  fly, 

I'd  bathe  in  yon  bright  cloud, 
And  seek  the  stars  that  gem  the  skv 

'Twere  heaven,  indeed, 
Through  fields  of  trackless  light  to  soar, 

On  nature's  charms  to  feed, 
And  nature's  own  great  God  adore. 


The  Four  Master  Spirits  of  the  Human  Race.— Anon 

Happening  to  cast  my  eyes  over  the  portraits  in  a  gallery  of 
paintings,  I  remarked  that  they  were  so  arranged  as  to  give  four 
personages  —  Alexander,  Hannibal,  Caesar,  and  Bonaparte  — 
the  most  conspicuous  places.  I  had  seen  the  same  before ;  but 
never  did  a  similar  train  of  reflections  arise  in  my  bosom,  as 
when  my  mind  now  hastily  glanced  over  their  several  histories. 

Alexander,  having  climbed  the  dizzy  heights  of  ambition,  and 
with  his  temples  bound  with  chaplets  dipped  in  the  blood  of 
countless  nations,  looked  down  upon  a  conquered  world,  and 
wept  that  there  was  not  another  to  conquer  —  set  a  city  on  fire, 
and  died  in  a  disgraceful  scene  of  debauch. 

Hannibal,  after  having,  to  the  astonishment  and  consternation 
of  Rome,  passed  the  Alps,  —  after  having  put  to  flight  the  armies 
of  this  "  mistress  of  the  world,"  and  stripped  three  bushels  of 
golden  rings  from  thn  fingers  of  her  slaughtered  kn'ghts,  ana 


494  ROSS'S   SPEAKER. 

made  her  vciy  foundations  quake,  —  returned  to  his  country,  to 
be  defamed,  to  be  driven  into  exile,  and  to  die  at  last  by  poison 
administered  by  his  own  hand,  unlamented  and  unwept,  in  a 
foreign  clime. 

Caesar,  after  having  taken  eight  hundred  cities,  and  dyed  his 
garments  in  the  blood  of  one  million  of  his  fellow-men,  —  after 
having  pursued  to  the  death  the  only  rival  he  had  on  earth,  — 
was  assassinated  by  those  he  considered  his  nearest  friends,  and 
at  the  very  point  in  which  he  had  gained  the  highest  object  of 
his  ambition. 

Bonaparte,  whose  mandates  kings  and  priests  obeyed,  after 
naving  filled  the  earth  with  the  terror  of  his  name,  —  after  having 
deluged  Europe  with  tears  and  blood,  and  clothed  the  world  in 
sackcloth,  —  closed  his  days  in  lonely  banishment,  almost  exiled 
from  the  world,  yet  where  he  could  sometimes  see  his  country's 
banner  waving  over  the  deep,  but  which  would  net,  or  could  not, 
bring  him  aid. 

Thus  those  four  men,  who,  from  the  peculiar  situation  of  their 
portraits,  seemed  to  stand  as  representatives  of  all  those  whom 
the  world  calls  "  great,"  —  those  four  who  made  the  earth  trem- 
ble to  its  center,  —  severally  died  —  one  by  intoxication,  the 
second  by  suicide,  the  third  by  assassination,  and  the  last  in 
lonely  exile. 

How  vain  is  the  greatness  of  this  world  !  How  fearful  is  the 
gift  of  genius,  if  it  be  abused  !  Who,  that  is  now  living,  would 
not  rather  die  the  death  of  the  humble,  righteous  man,  than  that 
of  Alexander,  or  Hannibal,  or  Csesar,  or  Napoleon  ? 


The  Better  Land.  —Mrs.  Hemanb. 

"  I  hear  thee  speak  of  the  better  land  ; 
Thou  call'st  its  children  a  happy  band : 
Mother  !  O,  where  is  that  radiant  shore  ? 
Shall  we  not  seek  it,  and  weep  no  more  ? 
Is  it  where  the  flower  of  the  orange  blows, 
And  the  fireflies  glance  through  the  myrtle  boughs  ?  " 
"  Not  there,  not  there,  my  child." 

"  Is  it  where  the  feathery  palm  trees  rise, 
And  the  date  grows  ripe  under  sunny  skies  ? 
Or  'midst  the  green  islands  of  glittering  seas, 
Where  fragrant  forests  perfume  the  breeze. 


THE   WILKINSON  TRIAL.  495 

And  strange,  bright  birds  on  their  starry  wirgs 
Bear  the  rich  hues  of  all  glorious  things  ?  " 
"  Not  there,  not  there,  my  child." 

"  Is  it  far  away  in  some  region  old, 
Where  the  rivers  wander  o'er  sands  of  gold, 
Where  the  burning  rays  of  the  ruby  shine, 
And  the  diamond  lights  up  the  secret  mine, 
And  the  pearl  gleams  forth  from  the  coral  strand  ? 
Is  it  there,  sweet  mother,  that  better  land  ?  " 
"  Not  there,  not  there,  my  child. 

"  Eye  hath  not  seen  it,  my  gentle  boy  ; 
Ear  hath  not  heard  its  deep  songs  of  joy ; 
Dreams  can  not  picture  a  world  so  fair  ; 
Sorrow  and  death  may  not  enter  there. 
Time  doth  not  breathe  on  its  fadeless  bloom ; 
For  beyond  the  clouds,  and  beyond  the  tomb, 
It  is  there,  it  is  there,  my  child." 


Tfie   Wilkinson  Trial.  —  s.  s.  Pbentiss. 

Gentlemen  of  the  jury,  if  to  be  a  Mississippian  is  an 
oTence  in  my  clients,  I  can  not  defend  them  ;  I  am  myself 
pnrticeps  criminis.  We  are  all  guilty ;  with  malice  afore- 
thought, we  left  our  own  beautiful  homes,  and  sought  that  land, 
the  name  of  which  seems  to  arouse  in  the  minds  of  the  opposing 
counsel  only  images  of  horror.  Truly  the  learned  gentlemen 
are  mistaken  in  us;  we  are  no  cannibals,  nor  savages.  1  would 
thai  they  would  visit  us,  and  disabuse  their  minds  of  these  unkind 
prejudices.  They  would  find  in  that  far  country  thousands  of 
their  own  Kentuckians,  who  have  east  their  lot  by  the  monarch 
stream,  in  the  enjoyment  of  whose  rich  gifts,  though  they  forget 
not,  they  hardly  regret  the  bright  river  upon  whose  banks  they 
strayed* in  childhood.  No  state  has  contributed  more  of  her  sons 
to  Mississippi  than  Kentucky  ;  nor  do  they  suffer  by  being  trans- 
planted to  th.it  genial  soil.  Their  native  state  may  well  be  proud 
of  them,  as  they  ever  are  of  her. 

But  1  do  injustice  to  you  and  to  myself  by  dwelling  upon  this 
matter.  Here,  in  the  heart  of  Kentucky,  my  clients  have  sought 
and  obtained  an  unprejudiced,  impartial  jury.  You  hold  in  yoir 
hands  the  balance  of  justice  ;  and  I  ask,  and  expect  that  you  will 


496  ROSS'S   SPEAKER. 

not  permit  the  prosecution  to  cast  extraneous  and  improper 
weights  into  the  scale,  against  the  lives  of  the  defendants.  You 
constitute  the  mirror,  whose  office  it  is  to  reflect,  in  your  verdict, 
the  law  and  the  evidence  which  have  been  submitted  to  you. 
Let  no  foul  breath  dim  its  pure  surface,  and  cause  it  to  render 
back  a  broken  and  distorted  image.  Through  you  now  flows  the 
stream  of  public  justice  ;  let  it  not  become  turbid  by  the  trampling 
of  unholy  feet. 

But  you  will  excuse  these  prefatory  observations  ;  they  are 
instigated  by  no  doubt  of  you,  but  by  a  sense  of  duty  to  the  de- 
fendants. I  wish  to  obviate,  in  advance,  the  attempts  which  I 
know  will  be  made  to  excite  against  them  improper  and  ungen- 
erous prejudices.  You  have  seen  in  the  examination  of  one  of 
the  witnesses,  this  very  day,  a  specimen  of  the  kind  of  feeling 
which  has  existed  elsewhere,  and  which  I  so  earnestly  deprecate. 
So  enraged  was  he,  because  the  defendants  had  obtained  an 
impartial  jury,  that  he  wished  the  whole  legislature  in  that  place 
not  to  be  mentioned  to  ears  polite,  and  that  he  might  be  the  fire- 
man ;  and  all  on  account  of  the  passage  of  the  law  changing  the 
venue.  Now,  though  I  doubt  much  whether  this  worthy  gentle- 
man will  be  gratified  in  his  benevolent  wishes  in  relation  to  the 
final  destiny  of  the  Senate  and  House  of  Representatives  of  this 
goodly  commonwealth,  yet  I  can  not  but  believe  that  his  desires 
in  regard  to  himself  will  be  accomplished,  and  his  ambitious 
aspirations  fully  realized  in  the  ultimate  enjoyment  of  that  singu- 
lar office  which  he  so  warmly  covets. 


The  Dying-  Alchemist.— Wilim. 

The  night  wind  with  a  desolate  moan  swept  by ; 
And  the  old  shutters  of  the  turret  swung 
Screaming  upon  their  hinges ;  and  the  moon, 
As  the  torn  edges  of  the  cloud  flew  past, 
Struggled  aslant  the  stained  and  broken  panes 
So  dimly,  that  the  watchful  eye  of  death 
Scarcely  was  conscious  when  it  went  and  came. 
The  fire  beneath  his  crucible  was  low, 
Yet  still  it  burned  ;  and  ever,  as  his  thoughts 
Grew  insupportable,  he  raised  himself 
Upon  his  wasted  arm,  and  stirred  the  coals 
With  difficult  energy  ;  and  when  the  rod 
Fell  from  his  nerveless  fingers,  and  his  ey« 


THE  DYING   ALCHEMIST.  491 

Felt  faint  within  its  socket,  he  shrunk  back 
Upon  his  pallet,  and  with  unclosed  lips 
Muttered  a  curse  on  death !     The  silent  room 
From  its  dim  corners  mockingly  gave  back 
His  rattling  breath  ;  the  humming  in  the  fire 
Had  the  distinctness  of  a  knell  ;  and  when 
Duly  the  antique  horologe  beat  one, 
He  drew  a  vial  from  beneath  his  head, 
And  drank  ;  and  instantly  his  lips  compressed  ; 
And  with  a  shudder  in  his  skeleton  frame, 
He  rose  with  supernatural  strength,  and  sat 
Upright,  and  communed  with  himself. 

I  did  not  think  to  die 
Till  I  had  finished  what  I  had  to  do ; 
I  thought  to  pierce  the  eternal  secret  through 

With  this  my  mortal  eye. 
I  felt —  O  God  !  it  seemeth  even  now, 
This  can  not  be  the  death  dew  on  my  brow  ; 

And  yet  it  is  :  I  feel 
Of  this  dull  sickness  at  my  heart  afraid ; 
And  in  my  eyes  the  death  sparks  flash  and  fade, 

And  something  seems  to  steal 
Over  my  bosom  like  a  frozen  hand, 
Binding  its  pulses  with  an  icy  band. 

And  this  is  death  !     But  why 
Feel  I  this  wild  recoil  ?     It  can  not  be 
The  immortal  spirit  shuddereth  to  be  free ! 

Would  it  not  leap  to  fly, 
Like  a  chained  eaglet,  at  its  parent's  call  ? 
I  fear,  I  fear  that  this  poor  life  is  all ! 

Yet  thus  to  pass  away  ! 
To  live  but  for  a  hope  that  mocks  at  last ! 
To  agonize,  to  strive,  to  watch,  to  fast, 

To  wuste  the  light  of  day, 
Night's  better  beauty,  feeling,  fancy,  thought, 
All  that  we  have  and  are,  for  this  !  for  nought  \  — 

Grant  me  another  year, 
God  of  my  spirit !  but  a  day,  to  win 
Something  to  satisfy  this  thirst  within ! 

I  would  know  something  here. 
Break  for  me  but  one  seal  that  is  unbroken  1 
Speak  for  me  but  one  word  that  is  unspoken ! 

Vain,  vain  !  mv  brain  is  turning 
32 


498  ROSS'S   SPEAKER. 

With  a  swift  dizziness ;  and  my  heart  grows  sick, 
And  these  hot  temple-throbs  come  fast  and  thick, 

And  I  am  freezing,  burning, 
Dying.     0  God,  if  I  might  only  live ! 
My  vial !  —  ha,  it  thrills  me  ;  I  revive. 

Ay,  were  not  man  to  die, 
He  were  too  glorious  for  this  narrow  sphere ! 
Had  he  but  time  to  brood  on  knowledge  here, 

Could  he  but  train  his  eye, 
Might  he  but  wait  the  mystic  word  and  hour, 
Only  his  Maker  would  transcend  his  power  ! 

Earth  has  no  mineral  strange, 
The  illimitable  air  no  hidden  wings, 
Water  no  quality  in  its  covert  springs, 

And  fire  no  power  to  change, 
Seasons  no  mystery,  and  stars  no  spell, 
Which  the  unwasting  soul  might  not  compel. 

O,  but  for  time  to  track 
The  upper  stars  into  the  pathless  sky ; 
To  see  the  invisible  spirits,  eye  to  eye ; 

To  hurl  the  lightning  back  ; 
To  tread  unhurt  the  sea's  dim-lighted  halls ; 
To  chase  Day's  chariot  to  the  horizon  walls  : 

And  more,  much  more  ;  (for  now 
The  life-sealed  fountains  of  my  nature  move ;) 
To  nurse  and  purify  this  human  love ; 

To  clear  the  godlike  brow 
Of  weakness  and  mistrust,  and  bow  it  down, 
Worthy  and  beautiful,  to  the  much  loved  one. 

This  were  indeed  to  feel 
The  soul-thirst  slaken  at  the  living  stream ; 
To  live.  —  O  God  !  that  life  is  but  a  dream  ; 

And  death  —  Aha!  I  reel  — 
Dim — dim  —  I  faint  —  darkness  comes  o'er  my  eye « 
Cover  me  !  save  me  !  God  of  heaven !  I  die  ! 

Twas  morning ;  and  the  old  man  lay  alone. 
No  friend  had  closed  his  eyelids ;  and  his  lips, 
Open,  and  ashy  pale,  the  expression  wore 
Of  his  death  struggle.     His  long,  silvery  hair 
Lay  on  his  hollow  temples,  thin  and  wild  ; 
His  frame  was  wasted,  and  his  features  wan 
And  haggard  as  with  want ;  and  in  his  palm 
His  nails  were  driven  deep,  as  if  the  throe 
Of  the  last  agony  had  wrung  him  sore 


LOSS  OF  THE  STEAMSHIP  PRESIDENT.  499 

The  storm  was  raging  still ;  the  shutters  swung 
Screaming  as  harshly  in  the  fitful  wind  ; 
And  all  without  went  on,  (as  aye  it  will, 
Sunshine  or  tempest,)  reckless  that  a  heart 
Is  breaking,  or  has  broken  in  its  change. 
The  fire  beneath  the  crucible  was  out; 
The  vessels  of  his  mystic  art  lay  round, 
Useless  and  cold  as  the  ambitious  hand 
That  fashioned  them  ;  and  the  small  silver  rod, 
Familiar  to  his  touch  for  threescore  years, 
Lay  on  the  alembic's  rim,  as  if  it  still 
Might  vex  the  elements  at  its  master's  will. 

And  thus  had  passed  from  its  unequal  frame 
A  soul  of  fire  ;  a  sun-bent  eagle  stricken 
From  his  high  soaring  down ;  an  instrument 
Broken  with  its  own  compass.     O,  how  poor 
Seems  the  rich  gift  of  genius,  when  it  lies, 
Like  the  adventurous  bird  that  hath  out-flown 
His  strength  upon  the  sea,  ambition- wrecked  — 
A  thing  the  thrush  might  pity,  as  she  sits 
Brooding  in  quiet  on  her  lonely  nest ! 


Loss  of  the  Steamship  President.  —  Rev.  j.  n.  Mapftt. 

The  great  American  heart  was  throbbing  with  deep  pulsations 
of  joy.  Thousands,  as  far  as  the  eye  could  fathom  the  distance, 
were  crowding  into  the  Capitol.  A  president  of  seventeen  mil- 
lions of  people,  invoking  the  mantle  of  Washington  to  fall  upon 
him,  was  about  to  ascend  the  elective  throne  of  freemen,  to 
execute  the  public  will.  Nor  came  he  unattended  with  banner 
pennon,  shout,  and  song,  borne  along  by  and  swelling  up  from 
millions. 

The  steamship  President,  in  the  harbor  of  New  York,  had  her 
signals  of  departure  for  the  shores  of  Europe  fluttering  in  the 
breeze.  Alas  !  at  the  end  of  one  short  month  where  were  both  ? 
At  the  end  of  one  short  month  the  pilot  of  the  nation  was  smitten 
at  the  helm  of  the  ship  of  state.  His  nerveless  hand  no  longer 
had  power  over  the  rudder;  it  was  cold  in  death.  Sorrow 
mantled  every  shroud  in  sable.  The  sails  flapped  heavily  against 
the  yards  and  masts,  and  wooed  no  breeze  of  delight,  cheerily 
dancing  over  the  dark  waters.  The  dirge  was  the  only  melan- 
choly music  that  * tiled  to  the  listening  sea. 


500  ROSS'S  SPEAKER. 

Where  was  the  steamship  President  ?  As  a  sea  bird,  whose 
track  upon  the  shore  the  shifting  sands  obliterate,  she  had  gone 
forth,  and  left  no  track  upon  the  waters.  Her  proud  form  had 
vanished,  in  the  blue  distance,  from  the  eyes  of  one  continent ; 
her  stripes  and  stars  had  not  emerged  from  the  ocean  upon 
another. 

I  see  the  gallant  bark,  in  her  majestic  course,  dashing  proudly 
on,  plowing  up  the  phosphorescent  fires  which  leap  and  flash 
from  every  crested  wave.  On,  on,  over  the  trackless  waste  ; 
but  as  unerringly  guided  by  the  power  of  science  as  though  she 
coursed  within  a  beaten  track.  The  last  dim  shore  recedes. 
Night  comes  on.  A  solitary  light  peers  through  the  distant 
gloom  —  nearer  and  nearer.  It  is  the  last  beacon  light  that 
warns  the  ocean  traveler  from  the  treacherous  reef;  now  farther 
and  farther  behind,  and  the  last  work  of  man  on  the  western 
hemisphere  fades  forever  from  the  view. 

What  a  still,  vast  solitude  !  Immensity  is  not  less  compre- 
hensible than  the  emotions  which  it  excites.  Morning  again,  and 
returning  night,  lighted  up  with  its  myriad  stars.  Night  and 
morning,  morning  and  night  —  and  no  change  !  Though  rushing 
wildly  on,  the  noble  voyager  seems  to  stand  upon  a  single  point 
of  time  —  the  center  of  a  shoreless,  illimitable  circle. 


The  Same,  continued. 

Peoud  as  is  the  movement  of  a  steamship  upon  the  ocean 
wave,  and  as  fearlessly  as  she  dashes  from  her  prow  the  feathery 
spray,  going  with  the  gale,  or  holding  on  her  way  in  the  wind's 
eye  —  roaring  forth  her  voice  of  power  over  the  waves  —  still 
she  is  an  object  of  terror  ;  still  is  she  cradled  upon  treacherous 
deeps,  holding  in  her  own  bosom  the  elements  of  a  more  dread- 
ful and  volcanic  doom, —  an  explosive  death,  —  to  the  fearfulness 
of  which  the  lowest  deeps  of  the  Atlantic  were  as  downy  beds 
of  repose. 

As  the  steamer  President  swept  on  and  on,  the  sullen  icebergs, 
gendered  in  arctic  seas,  came  down  like  a  buoyant  fleet  of  moun- 
tains. They  lifted  their  pale,  cold  peaks  into  equatorial  suns,  and 
scarcely  relented  under  their  blaze.  Strong,  chill  winds  swept 
over  the  sounding  seas.  Clouds,  inky  as  night,  lay  mountainous 
in  heaven.  The  old  seamen  knew  that  a  storm  was  at  hand. 
Such  voices  full  oft  have  moaned  over  the  deep,  and  full  oft  to 
seamen  bold  have  night  and  storm  shut  down  together,  and  no 
morning  to  him  or  his  gallant  bark  hath  ever  lifted  the  vail 


A   SUMMER   SUNSET.  601 

Scarce  heard  amid  the  war  of  elements,  the  President  is  in- 
gulfed in  the  seething  waters.  But  see  !  the  spirit  ship  swinga 
gracefully  into  the  whirlpool,  and  glides  upon  the  torn  and  frantic 
ocean.  Her  sides  are  burnished  gold.  The  water  drops  are 
like  pearls  upon  it.  The  decks  are  inlaid  with  precious  stones. 
The  tall  and  taper  masts  are  ivory,  and  the  graceful  sails,  like 
wings,  woo  the  upper  airs  of  heaven,  and  make  low-toned  music, 
as  ten  thousand  wind  harps,  melting  to  ecstasy  in  summer  even- 
ing zephyrs. 

The  commander  is  He  who  walked  the  waters.  The  navigators 
ara  beings  not  of  earth.  The  storm  gladdens  under  their  eyes 
of  beauty.  They  hold  the  winds  with  silken  reins.  An  anchor 
falls  where  the  President  went  down  ;  the  life  boat  lowers,  and 
one  after  another  of  the  pious  faithful  are  taken  on  board,  serene 
and  unharmed  —  not  pale,  shrinking,  and  terrified  as  the  moment 
before  they  sank  in  the  death  struggles  of  an  earthly  ship.  Loud 
huzzas  ring  through  the  ship  of  glory,  bursting  from  the  crowded 
shrouds  and  spars,  and  echoed  back  from  round-tops  and  gallant- 
masts.  Heavenly  music  rings  fore  and  aft,  and  cheer  succeeds 
cheer,  while  the  glittering  anchor  is  weighed,  and  the  region  of 
storm  and  death  left  far  in  the  wake  forever. 

Voyager  of  immortality,  look  not  now  dubiously  out  over  the 
element  on  which  thy  bark  of  glory  floats.  It  grows  purer  and 
purer.  Not  a  vapor  curls  over  its  placid  bosom.  It  never  en- 
gendered the  storm,  and  the  heaving  of  its  waves  are  but  the 
pulsations  of  eternal  love. 


A  Summer  Sunset.  —  Rev.  a.  e  Goodwtn, 

Behold  at  eventide 

The  gorgeous,  sun-lit  sky  ; 
The  cloudy  mountains  dyed 

With  hues  that  art  defy ; 
The  wide-spread  sea  of  flame 

That  rolls  along  the  west, 
And  graves  Jehovah's  name 

On  every  flaming  crest. 

And  tell  me,  ye  that  Chance 
Have  called  your  only  Lord 

Will  not  this  Bingle  glance 
Stamp  libel  on  your  word? 
w 


*QZ  ROSS'S   SPEAKER. 

Can  human  art  devise 
Or  execute  the  scene 

That  paints  the  evening  skies 
With  glories  all  have  seen  ? 

In  vain  may  mortals  try 

To  chart  the  flaming  sea, 
That  burns  along  the  sky 

In  fearful  majesty, 
Or  sketch  the  mountain  cloud 

Whose  base  is  bathed  in  blood, 
Whose  summit's  golden  shroud 

Is  dipped  in  light's  clear  flood. 

And  if,  O  skillful  man, 

With  wondrous  art  endowed, 
You  own  you  never  can 

Portray  the  evening  cloud, 
Why,  then,  your  shame  enhance, 

By  such  an  impious  word 
As  that  the  phantom  Chance 

Is  the  eternal  Lord  ? 

Drawn  by  a  hand  divine 

These  scenes  of  beauty  are  ; 
With  borrowed  rays  they  shine 

The  name  of  God  afar. 
He  throws  around  the  scene 

His  holy  mantle  bright ; 
The  sun  is  but  the  sheen 

Of  God's  eternal  light. 


The  Pitiable   Condition  of  Ignorance. 

W.  W.  Hageman. 

I  can  conceive  of  no  object  more  pitiable  than  an  old  man, 
who,  tottering  with  the  weight  of  years,  with  a  head  whitened  by 
the  frosts  of  many  winters,  has  not  advanced  a  single  step 
toward  the  perfection  of  that  cultivation  which  his  higher  nature 
demanded  in  thunder  tones  all  along  the  broad  highway  of  life, 
and  whose  feeble  limbs  have  now  brought  him  to  the  verge  of 
the  grave,  a  beggar  in   generous  sentiment  and  kind  feelings 


DEATH  AND  THE  DRUNKARD.  503 

passing  from  earth  into  the  wide  ocean  of  eternity,  with  a  heart 
unwarmed  by  love  or  sympathy  for  his  fellow-man  —  every 
noble  feeling  crushed  and  withered  by  a  morbid  passion  fot 
wealth.  A  human  heart,  eighty  years  old,  dead  to  every  human 
interest.  Life  to  him  has  indeed  been  a  struggle,  in  which  ava- 
rice has  been  the  victor.  We  march  through  life,  not  to  the 
deep,  soul-stirring  anthem  which  bursts  upon  the  spiritual  ear, 
as  it  comes  gushing  up  from  the  mysterious  depths  of  nature, 
mingling  its  sublime  harmony  with  the  melody  of  the  immortal 
soul,  struggling  to  wing  its  way  to  the  home  of  the  Eternal  ,  Dut 
every  ear  is  attuned  to  the  clinking  of  coin,  and  all  move  in  solid 
phalanx  to  the  low  murmur  of  selfishness  and  ambition. 

Why  should  we  stifle  the  infinite  sources  of  purest  pleasure 
that  lie  deep  seated  in  the  soul,  and  content  ourselves  with  the 
thorns  and  thistles  gathered  from  the  wayside  in  life's  journey, 
when,  by  wandering  occasionally  from  the  beaten  track,  a  new 
world  of  richness  and  of  beauty  opens  to  our  view,  from  which 
we  can  gather  flowers,  inhale  their  fragrance,  and  feel  the  warm 
sunshine  —  gathering  sweets  which  seldom  linger  among  the 
abodes  of  covetousness  and  luxury  ?  Why  linger  in  the  desert 
amid  tempests  and  barrenness,  when  the  oasis  lies  just  beyond, 
with  its  bowers  thrown  open  by  the  hand  of  God  himself ;  where 
the  weary  pilgrim  can  repose,  far  from  the  world's  ignoble  strife, 
there  gather  strength  to  nerve  him  on  the  brink  of  the  river  that 
shall  bear  him  to  a  fairer  land  ?  Why  steal  away  from  the  bright 
fireside,  where  all  that  is  lovely  and  genial  in  the  affections 
should  cluster,  to  feed  upon  the  husks  that  a  sordid  and  selfish 
world  offer  to  thy  unsatisfied  soul  ?  Why  should  these  pleasures 
of  the  high  and  more  ennobling  class  be  confined  to  the  few, 
when  all  who  choose  may  taste  them  ?  With  most  of  us  in  this 
money-making  age,  the  inspirations  of  genius  are  dim  vagaries, 
visionary  nonsense.  Young  America  wants  something  the  eye 
can  see  and  measure  ;  it  must  be  as  palpable  as  John  or  James, 
or  else  it  is  pronounced  a  nonentity. 


Death  and  the  Drunkard.  —  anok. 

His  form  was  fair,  his  cheek  was  health; 
His  word  a  bond,  his  purse  was  wealth ; 
With  wheat  his  field  was  covered  o'er ; 
Plenty  sat  smiling  at  his  door. 


504  ROSS'S   SPEAKER. 

His  wife  the  fount  of  ceaseless  joy ; 

Now  laughed  his  daughter,  played  hi&  boy ; 

His  library,  though  large,  was  read 

Till  half  its  contents  decked  his  head. 

At  morn  'twas  health,  wealth,  pure  delight , 

'Twas  health,  wealth,  peace,  and  bliss  at  nigh. 

I  wished  not  to  disturb  his  bliss  ; 

'Tis  gone !  but  all  the  fault  is  his. 

The  social  glass  I  saw  him  seize, 
The  more  with  festive  wit  to  please, 
Daily  increase  his  love  of  cheer  ; 
Ah,  little  thought  he  1"  was  near  ! 
Gradual  indulgence  on  him  stole, 
Frequent  became  the  midnight  bowl. 
I  in  that  bowl  the  headache  placed, 
Which,  with  the  juice,  his  lips  embraced. 
Shame  next  I  mingled  with  the  draught ; 
Indignantly  he  drank,  and  laughed. 

In  the  bowl's  bottom  bankruptcy 

I  placed  ;  he  drank  with  tears  and  glee 

Remorse  did  I  into  it  pour  ; 

He  only  sought  the  bowl  the  more. 

I  mingled,  next,  joint-torturing  pain  ; 

Little  the  more  did  he  refrain. 

The  dropsy  in  the  cup  I  mixed ; 

Still  to  his  mouth  the  cup  was  fixed. 

My  emissaries  thus  in  vain 

I  sent,  the  mad  wretch  to  restrain. 

On  the  bowl's  bottom,  then,  myself 
I  threw,  —  the  most  abhorrent  elf 
Of  all  that  mortals  hate  or  dread, — 
And  thus  in  horrid  whispers  said : 
"  Successless  ministers  I've  sent 
Thy  hastening  ruin  to  preven* ; 
Their  lessons  nought ;  then  here  am  . , 
Think  not  my  threatenings  to  defy. 
Swallow  this  ;  this  thy  last  will  be, 
For  with  it  thou  must  swallow  me." 

Haggard  his  eyes,  upright  his  hair, 
Remorse  his  lips,  his  cheeks  despair , 


VARIOUS   EXTRACTS.  506 

With  shaking  hands  the  bowl  he  clasped, 
My  meatless  limbs  his  carcass  grasped, 
And  bore  it  to  the  churchyard,  where 
Thousands,  ere  I  would  call,  repair. 

Death  speaks  :  ah,  reader,  dost  thou  hear  ? 
Hast  thou  no  lurking  cause  to  fear  ? 
Has  not  o'er  thee  the  sparkling  bowl 
Constant,  commanding,  sly  control  ? 
Betimes  reflect,  betimes  beware, 
Though  ruddy,  healthful  now,  and  fair; 
Before  slow  reason  lose  the  sway, 
Reform  ;  postpone  another  day, 
You  soon  may  mix  with  common  clay. 


Various  Extracts. 

Metaphor.  —  A  great  proportion  of  the  wretchedness  which 
nas  so  often  embittered  married  life,  I  am  persuaded,  has  origi- 
nated in  a  negligence  of  trifles.  Connubial  happiness  is  a  thing 
of  too  fine  texture  to  be  handled  roughly.  It  is  a  sensitive  plant, 
which  will  not  bear  even  the  touch  of  unkindness — a  delicate 
flower,  which  indifference  will  chill  and  suspicion  blast. 

It  must  be  watered  by  the  showers  of  tender  affection,  ex- 
panded by  the  cheering  glow  of  attention,  and  guarded  by  the 
impregnable  barrier  of  unshaken  confidence.  Thus  matured,  it 
will  bloom  with  fragrance  in  every  season  of  life,  and  sweeten 
even  the  loneliness  of  declining  years. 


It  is  this  miserable  materialism,  this  sacrifice  of  every  thing 
to  money  and  position,  which  has  fixed  upon  us  the  stigma  of 
national  sordidness.  This  is  the  system  which  produces  your 
men  of  one  idea,  your  narrow-minded,  dangerous  men,  as  well 
as  your  clos<\  grasping,  conservative  Shvlocks  ;  those  excessively 
philosophical  individuals  who  affect  to  disapprove  of  charity  as 
creating  paupers;  so  exceedingly  afraid  of  imposition,  that  they 
shut  their  eves  in  terror  at  the  proximity  of  a  beggar,  but  face 
without  alarm  the  veriest  sh:ir|«T  in  their  business ;  who  teach 
their  children  that  success  and  virtue  always  go  together,  that 
poverty  and  pilfering  are  synonymous,  that  failure  and  crime 


506  ROSS'S  SPEAKER. 

are  inseparable;  men  who  place  the  warm  and  glowing  sym 
pathies  of  youth  in  refrigerators  and  anticharitable  arguments, 
and  freeze  them  beside  icy  stumps  of  scorn  ;  who  would  take  the 
milk  of  human  kindness,  and  press  it  under  weights  of  worldli- 
ness  into  a  hard-crusted  cheese,  which  must  be  cut  off,  and  cut 
into,  and  dug  out,  before  the  smallest  particle  can  be  obtaines 
for  the  outcast  and  desolate.  —  Dickens. 


Trespass,  as  described  in  Legal  Phraseology.  — "  Bless 
me,  Mr.  Poance,  what  is  this?"  (Reads.)  "'For  that  the 
said  John  Snooks,  on  the  10th  day  of  May,  with  force  and  arms, 
broke  and  entered  a  certain  house  of  the  plaintiff's,  and  made  a 
great  noise  and  disturbance  therein,  and  so  continued  to  make  a 
disturbance  for  the  space  of  twenty-four  hours ' 

"  That,  sir,  is  the  declaration  in  trespass." 

"  But  the  man  only  knocked  ;  he  didn't  make  any  disturbance 
at  the  door  for  twenty-four  hours." 

"  A  mere  formal  allegation,  sir,  not  necessary  to  be  proved." 

"  But  he  didn't  break  in  divers,  to  wit,  twenty  doors." 

"  Pooh,  sir  !  don't  you  see  that  it  is  laid  under  a  videlicet  ?  " 

"  Laid  under  a  what  ?  " 

"  A  videlicet ;  that  means  you  mustn't  prove  the  allegation  if 
it  is  immaterial ;  but  if  material,  you  must." 

"  But  what's  the  use  of  it,  then  ?  " 

"  The  use  of  it,  my  dear  sir  !  But  you  don't  understand  these 
things  —  they  are  vocabularies." 

"  And  what  may  that  be  ?  " 

"  Why,  words  that  raise  doubts,  swell  costs,  and  enable  the 
professional  man  to  make  the  most  of  a  very  small  case." 


Complaining.  —  Neal,  the  author  of  the  Charcoal  Sketches, 
thus  admirably  takes  off  that  class  of  people  who  are  never  so 
happy  as  when  they  are  making  themselves  miserable  :  — 

"  How  are  you,  Trepid  ?  How  do  you  feel  to-day,  Mr. 
Trepid  ? " 

"  A  great  deal  worse  than  I  was,  thank'ee ;  most  dead,  Pm 
obliged  to  you ;  Pm  always  worse  than  I  was,  and  I  don't  think 
I  was  ever  any  better.  Pm  very  sure,  any  how,  Pm  not  going 
to  be  any  better ;  and  for  the  future  you  may  always  know  Pm 
worse,  without  asking  any  questions,  for  the  questions  make  me 
woras,  if  nothing  else  does." 


VARIOUS  EXTRACTS.  50T 

"  Why,  Trepid,  what's  the  matter  with  you  ?  " 
"Nothing,  I  tell  you,  in  particular,  but  a  greal  deal  is  the 
matter  with  me  in  general ;  and  that's  the  danger,  because  we 
don't  know  what  it  is.  That's  what  kills  people,  when  they 
can't  tell  what  it  is  ;  that's  what's  killing  me.  My  great  grand- 
father died  of  it,  and  so  will  I.  The  doctors  don't  know ;  they 
can't  tell ;  they  say  I'm  well  enough,  when  I'm  bad  enough,  and 
so  there's  no  help.  I'm  going  off  one  of  these  days  right  after 
my  grandfather,  dying  of  nothing  in  particular,  but  of  every 
thing  in  general.     That's  what  finishes  our  folks." 


Language.  —  The  endless  diversity  of  words  and  idioms  com- 
prised in  the  two  thousand  languages  spoken  by  the  human  race, 
the  endless  variety  of  musical  tones  and  expression,  are  not  so 
astonishing  as  the  simplicity  of  the  machine  by  which  these 
wonderful  results  are  produced.  A  single  volume  of  atmos- 
pheric air,  expired  by  the  lungs,  modulated  by  the  larynx,  articu- 
lated by  the  tongue,  the  palate,  the  teeth,  and  the  lips,  is  wrought 
into  these  infinitely  varied  manifestations  of  human  thought  and 
feeling.  It  gives  an  intelligible  form  to  the  inward  workings  of 
the  soul,  utters  its  mightiest  thoughts,  assumes  the  nicest  shades 
of  its  pleasurable  and  painful  emotions.  Nay,  it  sweeps  over 
mysterious  chords  existing  in  the  souls  of  others,  and  awakens 
sympathetic  joy,  grief,  hope,  and  terror  in  the  breast  of  thou- 
sands. It  becomes  eloquence,  philosophy,  music.  Yes,  it 
becomes  the  favorite  instrument  by  which  the  Most  High  com- 
municates his  will  to  the  human  race.  The  human  voice  has 
been  employed  to  utter  the  secrets  of  the  eternal  mind ;  to  tell 
of  eternity  past  and  eternity  to  come  ;  to  awaken  penitence  and 
hope  in  the  bosom  of  guilty  man ;  and  to  recall  an  alienated 
world  to  the  obedience  and  love  of  its  Creator. 


Take  the  bright  shell 

From  its  home  on  the  lea, 
And  wherever  it  goes, 

It  will  sing  of  the  sea. 

So  take  the  fond  heart 

From  its  home  and  its  hearth 
'Twill  sing  of  the  loved 

To  the  ends  of  the  earth. 


508  ROSS'S  SPEAKER. 

In  the  great  drama  of  human  life,  act  with  conscience.  Do 
what  your  hearts,  what  Nature  will  tell  you  to  do ;  and  when 
your  days  will  have  been  numbered,  when  wearied  and  tired 
of  this  world's  strifes  and  contentions,  you  will  lay  yourselves 
down  to  sleep,  how  "  like  a  May  day  breaking  "  will  steal  over 
your  spirits  the  history  of  your  lives  !  and  with  the  tendrils  of 
your  hearts  will  intertwine  the  fragrant  leaves  that  bloom  in  the 
herbarium  of  recollection,  and  the  dew  drops  of  that  consolation 
drawn  from  heaven,  and  "  filtered  through  the  skies,"  will  fall 
in  gentle  showers  upon  your  hearts,  and  bathe  them  in  the  floods 
of  memory. — A.   Oliver,  1856. 


Unwritten  Poetry.  —  Far  down  in  the  depths  of  the  human 
heart  there  is  a  fountain  of  pure  and  hallowed  feeling,  from 
which,  at  times,  swells  up  a  tide  of  emotions  which  words  are 
powerless  to  express,  which  the  soul  alone  can  appreciate.  Full 
many  hearts,  overflowing  with  sublime  thoughts  and  holy  imagin* 
ings,  need  but  the  "  pen  of  fire  "  to  hold  enraptured  thousands 
in  its  spell.  The  "  thoughts  that  breathe  "  are  there,  but  not  the 
"  words  that  burn."  Nature's  own  inspiration  fills  the  heart 
with  emotions  too  deep  for  utterance,  and  with  the  poetry  of  the 
heart  lies  forever  concealed  in  its  own  mysterious  shrine. 

Unwritten  poetry !  It  is  stamped  upon  the  broad  blue  sky,  il 
twinkles  in  every  star.  It  mingles  in  the  ocean's  surge,  and 
glitters  in  the  dew  drop  that  gems  the  lily's  bell.  It  glows  in 
the  gorgeous  colors  of  the  west  at  the  decline  of  day,  and  rests 
in  the  blackened  crest  of  the  gathering  storm  cloud.  It  is  on  the 
mountain's  hight,  and  in  the  cataract's  roar ;  in  the  towering 
oak,  and  in  the  tiny  flower.  Where  we  can  see  the  hand  of  God, 
there  Beauty  finds  her  dwelling  place. 


As  landsmen,  sitting  in  luxurious  ease, 
Talk  of  the  dangers  of  the  stormy  seas  ; 
As  fireside  travelers,  with  pretentious  mien, 
Tell  tales  of  countries  they  have  never  seen ; 
As  paupers,  gathered  in  congenial  flocks, 
Babble  of  banks,  insurances,  and  stocks  ; 
As  each  is  oftenest  eloquent  of  what 
He  hates  or  covets,  but  possesses  not ; 
As  cowards  talk  of  pluck  ;  misers,  of  waste  ; 
Scoundrels,  of  honor  ;  country  clowns,  of  taste 


VARIOUS  EXTRACTS.  509 

Ladies,  of  logic  ;  devotees,  of  sin  ; 

Topers,  of  water;  temperance  men,  of  gin, — 

I  sing  of  money.  —  J.   G.  Saxe. 


THE    CROSS. 

Blest  they  who  seek, 

While  in  their  youth, 

With     spirit     meek, 

The  way  of  truth. 
To  them  the  sacred  Scriptures  now  display 
Christ  as  the  only  true  and  living  way ; 
His  precious  blood  on  Calvary  was  given 
To  make  them  heirs  of  endless  bliss  in  heaven. 
And  e'en  on  earth  the  child  of  God  can  trace 
The  glorious  blessings  of  his  Savior's  grace 

For    them    he    bore 

His   father's   frown ; 

For   them    he    wore 

The   thorny  crown ; 

Nailed  to  the  cross, 

Endured     its     pain, 

That   his    life's    loss 

Might  be  their  gain. 

Then  haste  to  choose 

That     better      part, 

Nor  ever  dare  refuse 

The  Lord  your  heart, 

Lest      he       declare, 

"  I  know  you  not ;  " 

And     deep     despair 

Forever  be  your  lot. 

Now  look  to  Jesus  who  on  Calvary  died, 

And  trust  on  Him  alone  who  there  was  crucified. 


Tiik  Triumphs  of  Cotton.  —  Let  us  trace  out  this  fine,  deli- 
cate fiber  from  its  vcrv  origin  to  its  final  disposition,  and  observe 
what  benefits  it  bafl  diffused  through  its  course.  When  brought 
to  the  domestic  markel  and  sold,  it  pays,  or  should  pay,  rent  of 
land,  cost  of  labor  and  transportation,  and  leave  a  profit  to  the 
grower.      When   sold,  it    pays  a  profit   to  the   merchant      In  its 

as-  * 


MO  ROSS'S  SPEAKER. 

transfer  to  a  forei^ .  port,  it  pays  the  freight  to  the  ship  owner 
including  wages  to  the  mariner.  Arrived  at  a  foreign  port,  il 
pays  its  tribute  to  he  custom  house,  then  pays  for  commission 
and  storage,  and  cost  of  transportation  possibly  to  Rouen  or 
to  Alsace,  to  be  transformed  into  laces  and  muslins ;  possibly  to 
Lyons,  to  be  woven  in  with  tissues  of  silk.  Arriving  at  the 
manufactory,  it  pays  the  carder,  spinner,  weaver,  printer,  em- 
broiderer, all  engaged  in  the  process  of  fabrication ;  and  lastly, 
the  manufacturer,  who  vends  it  at  a  profit  to  the  dealer,  from 
whose  hands  it  passes  in  the  consumption  of  the  country,  clothes 
with  rich  draperies  the  gay  saloons  of  fashion,  by  a  happier  des- 
tiny ;  encircles  with  its  gossamer  folds  the  rounded  forms  of 
female  loveliness ;  embellishing  and  heightening  what  in  itself 
is  perfect,  as  floating  clouds  by  the  happy  distribution  of  their 
golden  tints  may  be  supposed  to  have  enhanced  the  splendors 
even  of  the  terrestrial  paradise.  —  Hon.  Wm.  Elliot, 


Time's  Mission.  —  Time  is  the  most  undefinable  yet  para 
doxical  of  things ;  the  past  is  gone,  the  future  is  not  come,  and 
the  present  becomes  the  past,  even  while  we  attempt  to  define  it, 
and  like  the  flash  of  the  lightning,  at  once  exists  and  expires. 
Time  is  the  measurer  of  all  things,  but  itself  immeasurable,  and 
the  grand  discloser  of  all  things,  but  is  itself  undisclosed.  Like 
space,  it  is  incomprehensible,  because  it  has  no  limits,  and  it 
would  be  still  more  so  if  it  had.  It  is  more  obscure  in  its  source 
than  the  Nile,  and  in  its  termination  than  the  Niger ;  and  ad- 
vances like  the  slowest  tide,  but  retreats  like  the  swiftest  torrent. 
It  gives  wings  of  lightning  to  pleasure,  but  feet  of  lead  to  pain, 
and  lends  expectation  a  curb,  but  enjoyment  a  spur.  It  robs 
beauty  of  her  charms,  to  bestow  them  on  her  picture,  and  builds 
a  monument  to  merit,  but  denies  it  a  house ;  it  is  the  transient 
and  deceitful  flatterer  of  falsehood,  but  the  tried  and  final  friend 
of  truth.  Wisdom  walks  before  it,  opportunity  with  it,  and  re- 
pentance behind  it.  He  that  has  made  it  his  friend  will  have 
little  to  fear  from  his  enemie  3 ;  but  he  that  has  made  it  b>s  ene- 
my will  have  little  to  hope  ft  >m  his  friends. 


Commencement  Parts. 

cloth — Price  $1.50  Postpaid — twelvemo 

Here  is  a  book  full  of  the  real  thing,  and  con- 
taining nothing  but  the  real  thing  / 

The  models  here — every  one  a  complete  address 
— are  not  composed  by  the  compiler  to  show  what 
he  would  say  if  he  should  happen  to  be  called  on  for 
a  class  poem,  or  an  ivy  song ;  a  valedictory,  or  an 
oration ;  a  response  to  a  toast,  an  essay,  a  recitation,  or 
what-not.  Not  at  all!  But  every  one  of  the  "efforts" 
in  this  book  is  real — in  the  sense  that  it  is  what  somt 
one  did  do  on  the  particular  occasion  when  he  actu- 
ally had  to  stand  up  and  speak.  This  entitles  thenB 
to  be  designated  models  in  a  genuine  sense. 

•  If  you  are  called  upon,  for  any  occasion  (no 
matter  what)  during  your  whole  high-school  or  college 
career,  and  wish  a  model  to  show  how  some  one  else 
has  risen  to  a  similar  opportunity,  we  think  you  wilL 
discover  by  a  glance  at  the  list  of  contents  of  Com- 
mencement Parts  some  illustration  of  exactly  what 
you  require.  Note  also  the  lists  of  class  mottoes^ 
subjects  for  orations,  essays,  themes,  toasts,  etc. 

Besides  the  above  we  publish  also  the  following,  of  interest  to 
those  who  have  to  ' '  appear  in  public  on  the  stage. ' '  And  we  can't 
think  of  any  "  effort "  throughout  one's  whole  career  that  is  not 
provided  for — from  the  little  tot's  first  curt'sy,  and  along  through 
the  school  and  college  years,  to  the  debate  of  important  cm* 
problems  by  the  adult  before  his  fellow  citizens : — 

Pros  and  Cons.    Both  sides  of  live  question":.    $1,501 

Playable  Plays.    For  school  and  parlor.    $1.50. 

College  Men's  Three-Minute  Declamations.    $1.00. 

College  Maids'  Three-Minute  Readings.    $1.00. 

Pieces  for  Prize-Speaking  Contests.    $1.00. 

Acme  Declamation  Book.     Paper,  30c.    Clcth,  50c. 

Handy  Pieces  to  Speak.    108  on  separate  cards.    60c. 

list  of  "  Conter  ts  "  of  any  or  all  of  above  free  on  request  If  you  mentioa 

this  ad. 

HINDS,  NOBLE  &  ELDREDGE,  Publishers, 
31-13-35  West  15th  St.  H.T.  City. 


College  Girls' 
Three-minute  Readings 

$1.00— CLOTH,  500  PAGES,  WITH  INDEX— $1.00 

Here  is  a  volume  for  American  girls  by  American 
women — an  ideal  long  in  demand,  now  realized  for  the 
first  time.  In  this  book  patriotism  is  the  keynote  domi- 
nating a  series  of  new,  ix&sh,speakable  selections,  pathetic, 
humorous,  descriptive,  oratorical ;  running,  in  fact, 
the  gamut  of  the  emotions.  A  book  for  the  American 
girl  and  the  American  young  woman  in  the  college,  the 
high  school,  the  academy,  and  the  home. 

This  new  book  is  new  in  every  sense  of  the  word,  but 
particularly  in  voicing  the  golden  thoughts  of  scores  of 
the  living  representative  women  of  America — women  edu- 
cators, women  philanthropists,  women  reformers. 

Here  is  a. partial  list  of  the  contributors  : 

Mrs.  A.  Giddings  Park  "Susan  Coolidge" 

Eva  Lovett  Cameron  {Brooklyn  Eagle)    Agnes  E.  Mitchell 
Edith  M.Thomas  Rev.  AnnaH.  Shaw 

Emma  Lazarus  Margaret  Junkin  Presttlt 

Adelaide  Procter  Amelia  Barr 

Celia  Thaxter  Norah  Perry 

Christina  Rossetti  Alice  Cary 

Anna  Robertson  Lindsar  Adeline  Whitney 

J.  Ellen  Foster  Emily  Warren 

Margaret  E.  Sangster  Lucy  Larcom 

Clara  Barton  Ella  Wheeler  Wilcox 

Frances  E.  Willard  Harriet  Beecher  Stow* 

Kate    Douglas   Wiggin  Mary  Mapes  Dodge 

Isabel  A.  Mallon  (Ladies" Home  Journal)  "Gail  Hamilton* 

and  there  are  many  others. 

A  brief  note,  happily  worded,  conveying  information  not  to  «fe 

found  elsewhere,  regarding  the  author  or  the  occasion,  accomp?  3i4, 

most  of  the  selections. 

Teachers  will  find  selections  appropriate  to  Memorial  Day,  Ar*J©£ 

Day,  Washington's  Birthday,  and  all  other  patriotic  occasions,    nug 

from  the   pages  of  this    book    speak    the  voices  of  many  of  ouJ 

presidents,  from  Washington  to  McKrnley. 

Besides  a  perspicuous  list  of  contents,  the  volume  contains  a  complete  gen* 
eral  index  by  titles  and  authors;  and  also  a  separate  index  of  authors,  thus 
enabling  one  who  remembers  only_  the  title  to  find  readily  the  author,  or 
who  recalls  only  the  author  to  find  just  as  readily  all  of  her  selections. 

Like  the  companion  volume,  College  Men's  Declamations,  this  work 
contains  many  "pieces"  suitable  both  for  girls  and  boys,  and  the  two  books 
may  well  stand  side  by  side  upon  the  shelf  of  every  student  and  every 
teacher,  ever  ready  with  some  selection  that  is  sure  to  please,  and  exactly 
suited  to  the  speaker  and  to  the.  occasion. 

HINDS,  NOBLE  &  ELDREDGE 
31-33-35  West  15th  Street  New  York  City 


College  Men's 
3=minute  Declamations 

$1.00 — CLOTH,   381    PAGES,  WITH  INDEX— $1.00 

Here  at  last  is  a  volume  containing  just  what  collegtf 
students  have  been  calling  for  time  out  of  mind,  but 
never  could  find — something  besides  the  old  selections, 
which,  though  once  inspiring,  now  fail  to  thrill  the 
audience,  because  declaimed  to  death!  Live  topics  pre- 
sented by  live  men  1  Full  of  vitality  for  prize  speaking. 

Such  is  the  matter  with  which  this  volume  abounds. 
To  mention  a  few  names — each  speaking  in  his  well- 
known  style  and  characteristic  vein  : 

Chauncey  M.  Depew  President  Eliot  {Harvard) 

Abram  S.  Hewitt  George  Parsons  Lathrop 

Carl  Schurz  Bishop  Potter 

William  E.  Gladstone  Sir  Charles  Russell 

Edward  J.  Phelps  President  Carter  ( Williams) 

Benjamin  Harrison  T.  De  Witt  Talmage 

Grover  Cleveland  Ex-Pres.  White  (Cornell) 

General  Horace  Porter  Rev.  Newman  Smyth 

Doctor  Storrs  Emilio  Castelar 

Here,  too,  sound  the  familiar  voices  of  George  William  Curtis. 
Lowell,  Blaine,  Phillips  Btooks,  Beecher,  Garfield,  Disraeli,  Bryant, 
Grady,  and  Choate.  Poets  also  :— Longfellow,  Holmes,  Tennyson, 
Byron,  Whittier,  Schiller,  Shelley,  Hood,  and  others. 

More  than  a  hundred  other  authors  besides !  We  have  not  space 
to  enumerate.  But  th«  selections  from  them  are  all  just  the  thing. 
And  all  the  selections  are  brief. 

In  addition  to  a  perspicuous  list  of  contents,  the  volume  contains  a  com' 
flete  general  index  by  titles  and  authors;  and  also  a  separate  index  of 
authors,  thus  enabling  one  -who  remembers  only  the  title  to  find  readily  the 
author,  or  who  recalls  only  the  author  to  find  just  as  readily  all  of  his 
selections. 

A  nother  invaluable  feature  :— Preceding  each  selection  are  given, 
so  far  as  ascertainable,  the  vocation,  the  residence,  and  the  dates  of 
birth  and  death  of  the  author ;  and  the  occasion  to  which  we  owe  the 
oration,  or  address,  or  poem. 

I  ike  the  companion  volume,  College  Girls'  Readings,  this  work  con- 
tains many  "  pieces"  suitable  both  forgrirlsand  boys,  and  the  two  books 
may  well  stind  side  by  side  upon  the  shelf  of  every  student  and  every 
teacher  evtr  ready  with  some  selection  that  is  sure  to  please,  and  exactly 
Mited  to  the  speaker  and  to  the  occasion. 


HINDS,  NOBLE  &  ELDREDGE 
31  33-35  V/est  15th  Street  New  York  City 


Pros  and  Cons 

"Tbe  Af f  if math's  and  the  Negative  of  the  Questions  Of  The  Day 

in  the  form  of 

Complete  Debates 

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Something  new,  something  practical,  something  up-to-date. 
\  book  that  exactly  tits  into  these  last  years  of  this  wonderful 
iast  decade  of  the  passing  centery. 

Besides  giving  complete  directions  for  the  organization  and 
the  conduct  of  Debating  Societies  in  accordance  with  parliamen- 
tary procedure,  this  book  in  many  of  its  debates  presents  the 
speakers  as  actually  addressing  their  hearers  from    "the  floor," 

each  speaker  in  turn  with  his  arguments the  first  speakers 

for  the  affirmative  and  the  negative  in  turn ;  then  the  second 
speakers  in  turn  ;  in  some  cases,  the  third  speakers ;  and  then 
the  summing  up  by  the  leaders. 

The  array  of  arguments  thus  marshalled  constitutes  an  intelli- 
gent and  intelligible  statement  of  every  principle  and  every  fact 
affecting  the  questions  debated,  thus  providing  not  only  an  ex- 
haustive study  of  each  question  enabling  a  thorough  mastery  of  it 
for  knowledge  sake,  but  also  furnishing  a  thoroughly  instructive 
and  decidedly  lively  and  entertaining  program  for  an  evening's 
pleasure  and  profit. 

Among  the  important  topics  discussed  are  the  following  :— 
Government  ContrpL  Immigration, 

Our  Foreign  Policy.  The  License  Question* 

The  Tariff.  The  Suffrage. 

The  Currency  Question.      Postage. 
Transportation.  Our  Commercial  Policy* 

And  many  othevs. 

There  is  also  a  list  of  "  questions"  suitable  for  debate,  several  of 
which  are  "briefly  outlined,  to  assist  the  student  to  prepare  and  to 
deliver  his  own  "  effort." 

Essays  and  orations,  many  of  them  suitable  for  commencement 
parts,  Salutatory  and  Valedictory  addresses,  supplement  the  debates, 
the  whole  providing  for  the  student  at  college  and  the  high-school 
scholar,  the  parent  at  home,  and  the  man  of  affairs,  just  that  equip- 
ment  that  oiie  needs  not  only  fbruinking  out  the  questions  that  every* 
jody  is  talking  about,  but  for  arguing  them  in  a  convincing  manna*.- 

HINDS,  NOBLE  &  ELDREDGE 
31-33-35  West  15th  Street  New  York  City 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 
Los  Angeles 

This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


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